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THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 
H.  A.  CODY 


THE  UNKNOWN 
WRESTLER 


BY 

H.  A.  CODY 

AUTHOR  OF 

UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS, 
THE   FRONTIERSMAN,  Etc. 


vt  «•  i*j     Y  O  R  IC 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1918, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


To  All 

True  Wrestlers 

this  book  is 

Sympathetically  Dedicated 


912837 


CONTENTS 

CHAPDiR  PAGI3 

I    Street  Music 11 

II    "Where  Flows  the  Tide 19 

III  Conscience  Monet ** .     .  28 

IV  Secret  Plans 37 

V    Put  to  the  Test 46 

VI    Down  by  the  River 55 

VII    Mending  Things 64 

VIII    Home  for  Repairs 74 

IX    Evening  Glow 83 

X    Prdde  and  Impudence 96 

XI    The  Face  at  the  Door 107 

XII    Astray  on  the  Hills 115 

XIII  Notice  to  Quit 125 

XIV  Settling  Things 133 

XV   A  Wet  Day 143 

XVI    Twin  Fires 153 

XVII    Cruel  as  the  Grave 163 

XVIII    Silent  Strife 175 

XIX   Warmer  than  He  Expected 183 

XX    Confidence 191 

XXI    Outdone 202 

XXII    Compelled  to  Serve 214 

XXIII    Dispelling  the  Clouds 225 

7 


8  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV  Empty  Hears  Something 233 

XXV  Perverting  Justice 243 

XXVI  On  the  Rocks 254 

XXVII  The  Will  of  the  People 265 

XXVIII  Knuckling  Under 276 

XXIX  The  Challenge .  287 

XXX  By  the  Old  Pine  Tree 299 


THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 


THE 
UNKNOWN   WRESTLER 


CHAPTER    I 


STREET   MUSIC 


THERE  was  no  room  for  him  on  the  sidewalk,  so  he 
took  up  his  position  beyond  the  curbstone.  The 
light  from  the  large  arc-lamp  overhead  exposed  the  old 
man's  thin  white  hair,  withered  face  and  threadbare 
clothes.  His  sightless  eyes  were  turned  toward  the 
passing  throng,  and  his  head  was  slightly  bent  in  an 
expectant  attitude.  But  the  hand  that  drew  the  wheezy 
bow  across  the  strings  of  the  violin  often  faltered,  and 
the  broken  music,  instead  of  attracting,  repelled  the 
crowds.  The  player  was  tired  and  longed  for  rest.  But 
the  fire  of  an  overmastering  purpose  burned  in  his  soul 
and  kept  him  steadfast  to  his  post. 
""*  The  girl  standing  by  his  side  was  both  weary  and 
embarrassed.  Her  hand  trembled  as  she  held  out  her 
father's  soft  felt  hat  to  receive  the  coins  which  were  so 
very  few.  It  was  quite  evident  that  she  was  new  to 
this  business,  for  her  cheeks  were  flushed  crimson  owing 
to  the  remarks  she  occasionally  heard. 

" Listen  to  that  old  man  sawing  wood,"  one  gaily- 
dressed  young  fop  laughingly  jested  to  his  companion. 

11 


12  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Filing  7iis  saw,  J  .should  say,"  was  the  sarcastic 
reply.  ' '  It 's  a  wonder  to  me  that  such  a  noise  is  allowed 
on  a  " 

"But  see  the  girl,"  the  other  insisted;  "isn't  she 
a  beauty!  Look  at  her  cheeks.  My!  they  are  some 
colour.  She  seems  new  to  her  job.  Suppose  we  give 
her  a  jolt.  I'd  like  to  hear  what  she'd  say.  Perhaps 
she  isn't  as  innocent  as  she  seems." 

They  had  stopped  several  rods  away  and  were  watch- 
ing the  girl  as  they  talked.  Presently  they  retraced 
their  steps,  and  when  they  came  near  where  she  was 
standing,  one  of  them  surged  suddenly  against  her, 
causing  her  to  drop  the  hat  in  alarm  and  start  back, 
while  the  few  coins  rolled  out  upon  the  hard  stones. 
Her  cry  of  dismay  caused  the  old  man  to  stop  playing 
and  turn  quickly  toward  her. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Nan?"  he  anxiously  enquired. 

"Oh,  let  us  go  away,"  the  girl  pleaded.  "We  are 
not  safe  here,  and  I  am  so  frightened.  Two  men  pushed 
against  me  and  knocked  the  hat  out  of  my  hand.  I 
know  they  did  it  on  purpose,  for  they  went  away  laugh- 
ing. Oh,  what  is  that?"  and  she  leaned  eagerly  for- 
ward as  a  commotion  took  place  among  the  crowd  a 
short  distance  away. 

While  the  young  men  were  performing  their  cow- 
ardly prank,  a  man  was  intently  watching  all  that  was 
taking  place.  He  had  been  observing  the  blind  violin- 
ist and  the  timid  girl  for  several  minutes.  In  his  eyes 
was  an  expression  of  sympathy,  which  changed  at  once 
to  intense  anger  at  the  act  of  the  two  heartless  fops. 
He  stepped  quickly  forward  and  confronted  them. 

"What  right  had  you  to  interfere  with  that  girl?" 
he  demanded. 


STREET  MUSIC  13 

"It's  none  of  your  business,"  replied  the  one  who 
had  done  the  deed.  "You  get  out  of  our  way,  and  do 
it  quick  at  that,  or  it  won't  be  well  with  you." 

At  once  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
the  gripping  fingers  of  that  hand  caused  him  to  wince 
and  try  to  tear  himself  away.  A  sudden  fear  smote 
his  heart  as  he  looked  up  into  the  blazing  eyes  of  the 
man  before  him.  He  was  beginning  to  respect  that 
towering  form  with  the  great  broad  shoulders  and 
the  hand  that  seemed  to  weigh  a  ton  and  the  gripping 
fingers  that  were  closing  like  a  vise.  He  suspected  that 
this  was  a  plain-clothes  man  in  the  Police  service,  and 
the  thought  filled  him  with  a  nameless  dread.  He 
glanced  around  for  his  companion,  but  he  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen. 

"What  do  ye  want  me  to  do?"  he  at  length  gasped. 

"Go  pick  up  those  coins,  and  then  apologise  to  the 
girl  for  your  rudeness,"  was  the  reply. 

"Good  heavens!  I  can't  do  that,  ye  know.  What 
will  me  chums  say?" 

"Never  mind  what  they  will  say.  They'll  say  a  great 
more  if  I  have  to  drag  you  there  by  the  coat  collar. 
So  get  a  move  on  at  once." 

The  victim  looked  helplessly  around  upon  the  crowd 
which  had  gathered,  as  if  expecting  some  assistance. 
But  not  a  friendly  face  could  he  behold.  All  seemed  to 
be  greatly  amused  at  his  plight. 

"Hurry  up." 

The  voice  was  calm  but  the  clutching  fingers  were  be- 
coming almost  unbearable.  There  was  nothing  else  for 
the  young  man  to  do,  so  with  a  face  as  pale  as  death 
he  turned  and  walked  slowly  back  to  where  the  old  vio- 
linist and  the  girl  were  standing. 


U  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Now,  pick  up  the  coins, "  was  the  imperious  com- 
mand. 

The  culprit  at  once  obeyed,  and  groped  around  as 
well  as  he  could  but  nothing  could  he  find.  Several 
street  urchins,  who  had  been  ahead  of  him,  now  stood 
near  and  jeered  at  his  fruitless  efforts.  At  length, 
straightening  himself  up,  he  turned  to  his  captor.  The 
perspiration  was  streaming  down  his  face,  and  he  looked 
the  picture  of  misery. 

"I  can't  find  anything,"  he  gasped. 

"Well,  then,  apologise  to  the  girl.  Tell  her  you  are 
sorry  for  what  you  did  and  that  you  will  never  do  such 
a  thing  again." 

With  trembling  lips  the  young  man  stammered  forth 
a  few  broken  words  as  he  stood  facing  the  surprised  and 
abashed  girl.  It  was  hard  to  understand  what  he  said, 
but  that  did  not  really  matter.  His  punishment  had 
been  severe,  and  his  captor  felt  somewhat  satisfied. 

"Now,  clear  out,"  he  ordered,  "and  be  thankful  all 
the  rest  of  your  days  that  you  have  escaped  so  easily. ' ' 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  speaking  ere  a  large  police 
officer  forced  his  way  through  the  crowd.  He  grasped 
the  situation  in  an  instant,  and  when  he  saw  the  man 
standing  near  the  culprit,  a  light  of  recognition  came 
into  his  eyes. 

"Shall  I  take  him,  sir?"  he  asked,  at  the  same  time 
giving  the  salute. 

"No,  Sergeant,  I  think  we  had  better  let  him  go  this 
time,"  was  the  reply.  "He  has  been  taught  a  lesson 
already  which  he  is  not  likely  to  forget." 

When  the  crowd  saw  that  there  was  to  be  no  more 
excitement,  it  quickly  dispersed,  and  the  stream  of  hu- 
manity surged  along  the  street  as  before.     The  police- 


STREET  MUSIC  15 

man,  too,  moved  away,  leaving  the  girl  and  her  pro- 
tector standing  near  each  other. 

"You  have  had  a  hard  time  to-night/'  the  man  re- 
marked. "I  am  so  sorry  those  rascals  gave  you  such 
trouble/ ' 

1 '  Oh,  it  was  so  kind  of  you  to  come  to  our  assistance, ' ' 
the  girl  replied.  "My  father  is  very  tired,  and  the  lit- 
tle money  we  made  is  all  gone." 

"May  I  have  your  violin  for  a  while,  sir?"  the 
stranger  asked  turning  to  the  violinist,  at  the  same 
time  taking  the  instrument  gently  from  the  trembling 
hands.    "You  must  be  very  tired." 

During  the  whole  of  the  scene  the  old  man  had  been 
trying  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  commotion. 
His  daughter  was  too  greatly  excited  to  explain  any- 
thing. But  when  he  heard  the  stranger  speak  to  him 
he  at  once  complied  with  his  request  and  allowed  him 
to  take  his  beloved  instrument.  The  girl  slipped  her 
hand  in  his  and  squeezed  it  hard,  and  then  stood  watch- 
ing her  kind  protector. 

The  latter  lifted  the  violin  quickly  to  his  shoulder, 
faced  the  crowded  street,  and  drew  the  bow  across  the 
strings.  There  was  a  great  difference  now  in  the  play- 
ing, and  many  people  paused  to  listen.  There  was  some- 
thing which  appealed  to  them  in  the  music  which  was 
pouring  forth.  It  stirred  their  nobler  feelings  and 
aroused  in  them  the  spirit  of  sympathy  for  the  poor  and 
unfortunate.  They  comprehended  the  purpose  of  the 
musician  when  they  saw  the  feeble  old  man  and 
the  girl  standing  nearby.  The  hearts  of  many  were 
strangely  stirred,  and  they  vied  with  one  another  in 
dropping  money  into  the  dusty  hat  which  the  girl  was 
again  holding  forth.    Silver  mingled  with  bills,  and  the 


16  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

girl's  face  grew  bright  and  her  heart  happy  the  heavier 
the  hat  became.  It  seemed  to  her  like  a  wonderful 
dream,  and  that  the  player  was  a  fairy  who  had  come 
to  her  assistance.  She  wanted  to  watch  him  and  listen 
to  the  music  he  was  making,  but  she  had  little  time  for 
that,  as  she  had  to  pay  attention  to  the  money  she  was 
collecting. 

Suddenly  the  music  stopped  and  when  the  girl  turned 
her  head  she  saw  the  stranger  handing  the  violin  to  her 
father.  She  wanted  to  speak  to  him,  to  thank  him  for 
his  kindness,  but  before  she  could  act  he  had  disap- 
peared among  the  crowd. 

As  the  music  ceased,  so  did  the  giving,  and  the  un- 
heeding crowd  once  more  surged  on  its  way.  But  the 
girl  did  not  care,  as  she  had  all  the  money  she  could 
manage. 

"Let  us  go  now,  father,'7  she  said.  "We  have  done 
well  to-night,  and  I  am  so  anxious  to  know  how  much 
we  have." 

' '  Yes,  Nan,  let  us  be  off  at  once, ' '  the  old  man  wearily 
replied.  "I  am  greatly  confused  and  do  not  fully  un- 
derstand all  that  has  taken  place.  You  must  thank  the 
stranger  for  his  kindness,  though.  His  music  was  won- 
derful." 

"But  he  has  gone,  father.  He  vanished  among  the 
crowd,  and  I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  never  see  him  again. 
Oh,  he  was  splendid !  How  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
him.,, 

"But  I  heard  him  speak,  Nan,  and  listened  to  his 
playing,  so  that  was  something." 

They  were  standing  close  to  each  other,  talking  as 
simply  as  if  they  were  completely  alone.  In  her  great 
innocence,  Nan  did  not  realise  that  greedy  eyes  were 


STREET  MUSIC  17 

watching  the  bulging  hat  she  was  still  holding  before 
her,  and  that  itching  hands  were  but  waiting  an  op- 
portunity to  snatch  away  the  treasure. 

They  had  turned  to  leave  the  place,  when  a  police- 
man suddenly  appeared  before  them. 

1 '  I  have  been  instructed  to  accompany  you  home,  • '  he 
briefly  informed  them. 

Into  the  girl's  eyes  came  a  look  of  fear  which  the 
policeman  was  not  slow  to  notice. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  Miss,"  he  remarked.  "It  is  for 
your  welfare  that  I  am  here.  It  is  not  safe  for  you  to 
go  alone  through  the  streets  with  all  that  money.  There 
are  people  watching  you  already  to  snatch  it  away  from 
you." 

"Are  there?"  and  the  girl  looked  fearfully  around. 
"I  don't  see  them." 

1 '  No,  I  know  you  don 't.  But  they  are  watching  you, 
nevertheless,  so  let  us  go  at  once." 

"Who  sent  you  here  to  help  us?"  the  girl  enquired, 
as  they  moved  along  by  the  side  of  the  policeman.  "Was 
it  that  kind  man  who  played  so  nicely?" 

"I  received  orders  to  come,"  was  the  reply.  "That 
is  all  I  can  tell  you.  But  I  think  you  had  better  let  me 
carry  that  money,"  he  added,  "perhaps  it  will  be  safer 
with  me." 

The  girl  was  only  too  glad  to  comply  with  his  request, 
for  she  was  beginning  to  get  quite  nervous  as  they  moved 
along  through  the  crowds.  She  imagined  now  that  many 
people  were  following  them  in  order  to  steal  their  treas- 
ure. 

It  was  quite  a  distance  they  had  to  travel,  and  very 
glad  was  the  old  man  when  at  length  they  stopped  be- 
fore the  door  of  a  house  on  a  narrow  street. 


18  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"You  live  here?"  the  policeman  asked,  as  he  handed 
the  hat  with  the  money  to  the  girl. 

' '  Oh,  no, ' '  was  the  reply.  ' '  We  are  only  staying  here 
for  the  night.  We  live  in  the  country.  This  is  a  board- 
ing place,  and  we  have  been  here  before.  We  are  very 
grateful  to  you  for  your  kindness,  sir,  and  we  shall  never 
forget  you." 

"It's  all  in  the  night's  work,"  the  policeman  replied. 
"But  be  careful  of  that  money.  Keep  a  good  watch 
over  it." 

"Indeed  I  shall,"  and  the  girl  hugged  it  close  to  her 
breast.    "It  means  so  much  to  us." 

The  policeman  moved  away,  and  then  stopped  and 
watched  the  house  for  a  few  minutes  after  the  old  man 
and  the  girl  had  entered  the  building. 

"Good  Lord!  what  innocents,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. "They  wouldn't  have  got  half  a  block  with  that 
money  if  I  hadn't  been  along.  I  wonder  how  they'll 
make  out  getting  away.  Live  in  the  country,  the  girl 
said.  They  should  stay  there,  then.  The  city's  cer- 
tainly no  place  for  such  as  them." 


CHAPTER  II 

WHERE   FLOWS    THE   TIDE 

AFTER  Douglas  Stanton  had  handed  back  the  vio- 
lin to  the  blind  musician,  he  stood  a  little  dis- 
tance off  and  watched  to  see  what  would  happen.  He 
felt  quite  interested  in  the  old  man  and  the  girl,  and 
longed  to  know  something  about  them.  Why  were  they 
thus  appealing  to  the  crowds  for  money?  The  man 
did  not  seem  like  the  ordinal  street  musician,  as  there 
was  something  dignified  and  refined  in  his  manner.  The 
girl  was  unusually  timid.  He  could  not  forget  the  big 
blue  eyes  which  had  turned  to  him  in  gratitude  for  his 
assistance,  and  he  had  noticed  how  clean  and  neat  was 
her  simple  dress. 

"Queer  couple  that,  sir;  mere  babies." 

The  man  turned  suddenly  and  saw  the  police  ser- 
geant standing  by  his  side. 

"Do  you  know  who  they  are?"  Douglas  enquired. 

"Xo;  never  saw  them  before.  But  they're  such 
kids  that  I  feel  sorry  for  them,  and  so  ordered  Haw- 
kins to  see  that  they  got  safe  home." 

' '  It  was  good  of  you,  Sergeant,  to  do  that.  But,  say, 
I  didn't  know  you  were  on  this  beat.  When  did  you 
leave  the  water-front?" 

"Last  night,  sir.  Flemming's  down  there  now.  You 
know  him,  I  think;  he  was  with  me  for  a  while  last 
spring  when  things  were  lively  there." 

19 


20  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Yes,  I  remember  quite  well.  He  helped  us  in  that 
Fenston  row." 

"He's  the  one,  and  a  good  man,  too.  But  I  did  like 
that  beat,  as  I  was  on  it  so  long.  It  is  too  tame  up  here, 
and  you  know  I  'm  fond  of  a  bit  of  excitement  now  and 
then/' 

"You  got  it  down  there  all  right,  didn't  you,  es- 
pecially when  the  docks  were  full?" 

' '  You  bet, ' '  and  the  sergeant  smacked  his  lips  as  past 
scenes  came  to  his  mind.  "But  it's  quiet  at  the  docks 
now.  I  haven't  seen  you  there  for  the  last  few  days, 
sir." 

"I  know  you  haven't,  and  you  won't  see  me  there 
again  for  some  time.  I'm  going  down  to-night  to  have 
one  more  look  at  the  old  place." 

"Why,  not  going  away!"  the  sergeant  exclaimed  in 
surprise. 

"That's  about  it." 

"My,  my!  What  in  the  world  shall  we  do  without 
you!  There'll  be  no  one  to  take  an  interest  in  things 
down  there  now." 

"Oh,  there'll  be  plenty,  I  guess." 

"You're  the  first  one  who  ever  did,  and  I'm  damned 
sure  those  high-brows  won't  follow  your  lead.  Not  a 
bit  of  it!  They're  too  much  taken  up  with  their  pink 
teas,  and  such  things,  and  wouldn't  think  of  soiling 
their  nice  hands  with  dock  trash." 

The  sergeant  was  on  his  favourite  subject  now,  and 
his  temper  was  rising.  Douglas  had  heard  his  opinions 
before,  and  was  not  anxious  to  listen  to  them  again. 

'  '  I  must  be  off  now,  Sergeant.  I  shall  always  remem- 
ber your  kindness." 


WHERE  FLOWS  THE  TIDE  21 

"But  you'll  be  sure  to  give  us  a  call,  sir?  The  mis- 
sus vrill  feel  all  cut  up  if  you  don't.'' 

"Yes,  I'll  be  around  as  soon  as  I  can.  So,  good- 
night." 

The  worthy  sergeant  stood  and  watched  him  as  he 
moved  away. 

"Too  bad,"  he  muttered.  "We  can't  afford  to  lose 
the  likes  of  him.  Wonder  where  in  the  world  he's  going. 
I've  always  said  we  couldn't  keep  him  forever,  and  I 
guess  I  was  right.  It  must  be  a  mighty  big  thing  that 
would  take  him  away  from  the  docks.  He  should  be 
a  chief  of  police  instead  of  being  nothing  but  a  go- 
cart." 

•  While  the  sergeant  was  thus  musing,  Douglas  moved 
as  rapidly  as  possible  along  the  crowded  streets.  He 
wished  to  get  away  from  the  commotion  of  the  throngs 
that  he  might  consider  the  thoughts  that  were  upper- 
most in  his  mind.  Keeping  steadily  on,  he  at  length 
reached  the  street  running  along  the  front  of  the  har- 
bour. It  was  a  narrow  street,  dimly  lighted,  with  huge 
warehouses  on  both  sides.  There  was  little  traffic  now, 
as  this  was  a  winter  port,  and  the  big  ocean  liners  did 
not  come  here  during  the  summer  months.  It  was  not 
a  desirable  locality,  especially  at  night,  and  most  people 
shunned  the  place.  The  few  Douglas  met  were  either 
hurrying  to  get  away  as  soon  as  possible  or  slinking 
slowly  along,  preferring  this  gloomy  abode  to  the 
brightly-lighted  parts  of  the  city. 

The  street  at  length  became  wider  where  the*  docks  ran 
out  into  the  harbour.    At  several  of  these  small  steam- 
ers were  lying,  and  a  number  of  sailing  craft.     Here 
men  were  busy  loading  and  unloading  the  vessels.  Doug- 
lid  not  stop  to  watch  them,  as  at  other  times,  but 


22  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

kept  steadily  on  until  he  reached  the  last  dock  which 
was  entirely  deserted.  One  electric  light  shed  its  beams 
out  over  the  water,  which  was  kept  burning  as  a  guide 
to  incoming  boats.  Down  this  dock  he  walked,  and 
when  he  came  close  to  the  water  he  stood  for  a  while  and 
looked  out  over  the  harbour.  It  was  an  inspiring  sight 
to  see  the  lights  gleaming  on  the  opposite  shore,  and 
from  the  passing  tugs  and  other  vessels. 

Here  a  large  warehouse  ran  along  one  side  of  the 
dock  almost  to  the  water's  edge.  Just  around  the  near- 
est corner  was  a  steamer's  broken  shaft,  and  noticing 
this,  Douglas  sat  down  upon  it  to  rest.  It  was  almost 
high  tide,  and  the  water  lapped  lazily  against  the  dock. 
There  was  a  restful  quietness  here,  and  Douglas  en- 
joyed the  respite  from  the  busy  crowds.  Below  the  dock 
several  small  tugs  were  moored,  and  the  sound  of  voices 
came  to  him  occasionally  from  that  direction.  He 
thought  of  the  last  time  he  had  visited  this  place,  and 
how  the  dock  then  was  the  scene  of  such  bustling  com- 
motion, for  a  big  ocean  liner  was  all  ready  to  leave.  She 
had  gone  and  had  left  not  a  visible  trace  behind.  So 
it  would  be  with  him,  he  mused.  Soon  he  himself  would 
be  away,  and  the  life  of  the  city  would  go  on  the  same 
and  none  would  remember  him.  His  thoughts  drifted 
to  the  principal  ones  who  were  responsible  for  his  going, 
and  his  face  hardened,  while  his  hands  clenched.  He 
knew  what  they  would  say  when  they  heard  of  it.  There 
would  be  a  slight  lifting  of  the  eyebrows,  no  more  than 
good  breeding  would  allow.  It  would  be  mentioned  at 
afternoon  teas,  and  at  card-tables.  He  could  imagine 
what  some  of  them  would  say.  "Poor  fellow,  his  head 
was  somewhat  turned  with  that  dock  work.  He  will 
learn  wisdom  as  he  gets  older."     Yes,  such  remarks 


WHERE  FLOWS  THE  TIDE  23 

as  these  would  be  made,  and  then  he  would  be  entirely- 
forgotten. 

He  remained  musing  in  this  fashion  for  some  time, 
lost  to  the  world  around  him.  He  was  going  away — - 
he  knew  not  whither,  defeated  for  a  while  but  not  beaten. 
He  had  the  future  before  him,  and  he  would  make  good. 
If  he  could  not  do  it  here,  he  would  in  some  other  place. 

The  sound  of  voices  at  last  aroused  him.  It  came 
from  his  left,  and  he  peered  around  the  corner  of  the 
warehouse.  For  a  few  seconds  he  could  see  no  one,  but 
he  knew  there  were  people  not  far  off  who  were  talking 
in  a  most  earnest  manner.  Presently,  out  of  the  dark- 
ness stepped  a  man  and  a  woman,  and  passed  directly 
under  the  electric  lamp.  He  saw  their  faces  distinctly, 
especially  the  woman 's,  which  was  strained  and  haggard, 
as  she  listened  to  her  companion.  As  they  came  nearer 
and  stood  close  to  the  edge  of  the  dock,  it  was  possible 
for  Douglas  to  overhear  parts  of  the  conversation.  He 
could  not  see  their  faces  now,  though  he  could  observe 
their  forms,  and  he  knew  that  the  woman  was  standing 
near  the  water,  and  it  was  quite  evident  that  she  was 
weeping. 

"But  you  promised  me,  Ben;  you  really  did,"  she 
ing. 

"I  know  I  did,  Jean,  but  we  must  wait  a  while,"  was 
the  reply. 

"But  we  cannot  wait,"  the  woman  urged.  "You  know 
how  serious  it  is  if  we  delay  much  longer.  All  will 
know,  and  I  shall  be  disgraced." 

"Tut,  tut,"  and  the  man  stamped  angrily  upon  the 
floor  of  the  dock.  "Don't  talk  so  foolishly.  A  few 
weeks  won't  make  any  difference." 

"How  long  do  you  think?"  the  woman  asked. 


24  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Oh,  five  or  six,  I  should  imagine." 

"No,  I  tell  you  that  will  be  too  late.  It  must  not  be 
longer  than  two.  Promise  me  that  it  will  not  be  more 
than  that." 

"Well,  I  promise,"  the  man  slowly  assented. 

"Swear  to  it,  then,"  the  woman  demanded.  "Place 
your  left  hand  upon  your  heart,  and  hold  your  right 
hand  up  to  heaven,  and  swear  by  Him  who  is  watching 
and  listening  that  you  will  be  true  to  your  word." 

A  coarse,  brutal  laugh  came  from  the  man's  lips. 

"Won't  you  believe  me?"  he  demanded. 

"Not  unless  you  swear." 

"Well,  I  won't,  so  that's  the  end  of  it." 

At  these  words  the  woman  gave  a  low  moan,  and  what 
she  said  Douglas  could  not  hear.  Whatever  it  was  it 
made  the  man  angry  and  he  again  stamped  his  foot. 

"What  do  I  care?"  he  growled.  "You  can  go  to  the 
snivelling  old  idiot  and  tell  him  all  you  want  to." 

"Oh,  Ben!"  and  the  woman  laid  a  hand  upon  his 
arm,  "how  can  you  say  such  things?" 

With  a  curse  he  flung  her  hand  away,  and  then  in  a 
twinkling  he  gave  her  a  push,  and  before  she  could  re- 
cover herself  she  had  gone  backwards  over  the  edge  of 
the  dock.  With  a  frightened  cry  she  disappeared,  and 
the  man,  instead  of  trying  to  rescue  her,  leaped  aside 
and  vanished  into  the  darkness. 

All  this  happened  so  quickly  that  Douglas  hardly  real- 
ised what  had  taken  place  before  it  was  all  over.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  spring  after  the  man  who  had  com- 
mitted the  cowardly  deed.  But  the  thought  of  the 
woman  down  there  in  the  water  deterred  him  and  caused 
him  to  hasten  at  once  to  her  assistance.  Anxiously  he 
peered  over  the  edge,  and  at  length  saw  a  hand  thrust 


WHERE  FLOWS  THE  TIDE  25 

above  the  surface.  It  took  him  but  au  instant  to  tear 
off  his  coat  and  hurl  himself  into  the  water  below.  A 
few  powerful  strokes  brought  him  close  to  the  woman, 
and  he  was  enabled  to  reach  out  and  clutch  her  with 
a  firm  grip  ere  she  again  disappeared.  Fortunate  it 
was  for  him  that  he  was  a  strong  swimmer,  and  he  was 
thus  able  to  hold  the  woman's  head  above  water  while 
he  slowly  worked  his  way  toward  the  lower  side  of  the 
dock,  where  he  hoped  to  find  a  landing  place.  He  had 
not  proceeded  far,  however,  ere  a  rowboat  shot  sud- 
denly out  from  the  shore,  and  a  deep  voice  hailed  him. 

* '  Hold  on  a  minute ! ' '  was  the  order.  Soon  the  boat 
was  near,  and  both  Douglas  and  the  woman  were  hauled 
aboard. 

"What  have  ye  got  there?  A  woman?"  the  boatman 
asked. 

"Yes,"  was  the  brief  response. 

"Thought  so,"  the  rescuer  laconically  remarked. 
"Screamed  when  she  went  over,  didn't  she?" 

"Yes." 

* '  I  thought  so.  They  all  do  that.  It  was  her  I  heard 
all  right." 

"What,  is  such  a  case  as  this  common?"  Douglas 
asked  in  surprise. 

''Well,  I  couldn't  say  it  is  common,  but  forty  odd 
years  in  and  around  this  harbour  afford  one  some  queer 
sights.    But  here  we  are." 

The  boatman  swung  his  craft  around  and  drew  it  up 
by  the  side  of  a  tugboat  which  was  lying  at  its  wharf. 
It  did  not  take  long  to  lift  the  woman  from  the  row- 
boat  up  to  the  deck  above. 

"Have  you  a  light?"  Douglas  enquired.  "I  want  to 
see  whether  this  woman  is  dead  or  alive." 


26  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Oh,  she's  alive  all  right,"  was  the  reply.  "Ye  can't 
knock  the  likes  of  her  out  with  a  little  dip  like  that. 
But  I'll  get  the  light,  if  ye  want  it." 

It  did  not  take  the  old  man  long  to  bring  a  lantern, 
and  when  the  light  fell  upon  the  woman's  face  she 
moved  her  head  and  gave  a  slight  moan. 

"She's  all  right,"  the  boatman  remarked.  "The 
best  thing  to  do  is  to  phone  fer  the  ambulance.  The 
hospital's  the  place  fer  her.  She'll  have  a  decent  place 
fer  the  night,  anyway,  and  they'll  fix  her  up  there. 
There's  a  phone  in  the  drug-store  just  around  the  cor- 
ner. ' ' 

Douglas  realised  that  this  was  the  best  course  to  pur- 
sue and,  wet  though  he  was,  he  sprang  ashore  and  hur- 
ried up  the  street.  It  took  him  only  a  few  minutes  to 
reach  the  drug-store,  where  he  sent  in  a  hurry  call  for 
the  ambulance.  He  paid  no  attention  to  the  curious 
looks  cast  upon  his  drenched  figure  by  several  people 
who  were  standing  near.  In  fact,  he  had  forgotten  how 
wet  he  was,  so  interested  was  he  in  obtaining  aid  for 
the  unfortunate  woman  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Upon  his  return  to  the  tug,  he  found  the  old  man 
keeping  guard. 

"How  is  she  now?"  he  asked. 

"Ye  can  see  fer  yourself,"  and  the  boatman  swung 
around  his  lantern  as  he  spoke. 

Douglas  now  had  more  time  to  observe  the  face  of 
the  woman  before  him.  Her  head,  resting  on  an  old 
coat,  turned  slightly  to  one  side,  was  partly  covered  by 
a  wealth  of  jet-black  hair,  forming  a  striking  contrast 
to  the  face  which  was  so  very  white.  It  was  a  face 
of  considerable  beauty,  though  lines  of  care  were  plainly 
visible.    She  seemed  but  a  girl  lying  there,  and  as  Doug- 


WHERE  FLOWS  THE  TIDE  27 

las  looked  at  her  an  intense  anger  smote  his  soul,  and 
he  longed  to  lay  his  hands  upon  the  wretch  who  had 
tried  to  destroy  her. 

"Why  are  such  brutes  allowed  their  freedom ?"  he 
asked  turning  toward  the  boatman. 

"Hey,  what  is  that  you  say?"  was  the  reply. 

"I  wonder  why  human  brutes  are  permitted  to  have 
their  freedom,  and  injure  a  woman  such  as  that?" 

"You  saw  the  deed,  then?" 

"Yes,  I  happened  to  be  on  the  dock  over  there,  when 
she  was  pushed  into  the  water  by  her  companion.  He 
disappeared  before  I  could  get  my  hands  on  him." 

"Oh,  that  is  always  the  way.  The  women  are  the 
ones  who  suffer  while  the  men  get  scot-free.  But,  say, 
here  is  the  car  now." 

It  did  not  take  long  to  transfer  the  woman  from  the 
tug  to  the  ambulance,  and  when  the  car  had  departed, 
Douglas  turned  to  the  boatman. 

"I  wish  to  thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  to- 
night, sir.  But  for  your  timely  assistance  I  fear  I  should 
have  had  a  hard  time  getting  ashore." 

"Oh,  never  mind  your  thanks,"  was  the  reply.  "I'm 
mighty  glad  that  I  was  nearby  to  give  a  hand.  It  does 
one  good  sometimes  to  help  a  poor  creature  in  distress. 
But  you  had  better  hustle  and  change  your  wet  clothes 
or  the  ambulance  will  have  to  come  f er  you  next. ' ' 

"You're  right,  I  do  feel  chilly,  so  good-night." 

"Good-night,"  was  the  reply,  "and  when  ye  want 
any  help  with  that  scoundrel,  just  call  upon  Cap' 
Dodges,  of  the  'Nancy  Staines.'  " 


CHAPTER  III 


CONSCIENCE    MONEY 


THE  rector  of  St.  Margaret's  was  visibly  annoved 
as  lie  hung  up  the  telephone  receiver.  "Con- 
found that  fellow,"  he  muttered,  "where  can  he  be?  I 
have  phoned  to  him  six  times  and  can  get  no  answer. 
I  shall  not  call  him  again.  I'm  really  glad  he's  going 
for  he  gets  on  my  nerves  with  all  his  odd  notions." 
Turning  to  his  desk,  he  continued  his  work  upon  his 
sermon  for  next  Sunday  morning. 

It  was  a  large,  comfortable  study,  and  the  walls  were 
well  lined  with  books.  Dr.  Rannage  was  noted  far  and 
wide  as  a  deep  student,  as  well  as  a  great  preacher. 
The  people  of  St.  Margaret's  were  proud  of  their  rector's 
ability,  and  listened,  so  they  often  told  him,  with  delight 
to  his  intellectual  sermons.  He  was  particularly  at  home 
when  dealing  with  the  Major  and  Minor  Prophets  or 
on  the  Textual  Criticism  of  the  Bible.  Regular  Pas- 
toral Visitation  he  disliked,  and  left  most  of  such  work 
to  his  curate,  though  occasionally  he  called  upon  the 
most  influential  members  of  his  flock.  He  was  a  special 
favourite  in  social  circles,  and  being  a  brilliant  after- 
dinner  speaker  he  was  much  in  demand  to  grace  numer- 
ous festive  gatherings.  Little  wonder,  then,  that  Dr. 
Rannage  had  no  time  for  anything  else  but  the  prepara- 
tion of  his  Sunday  sermons,  of  which  work  he  was  very 
fond. 

28 


CONSCIENCE  MONEY  29 

To-night,  however,  he  could  not  concentrate  his 
thoughts  upon  his  subject.  His  mind  would  wander,  and 
several  times  he  found  himself  thinking  of  the  dinner 
he  had  that  evening  with  his  Bishop.  He  knew  that  the 
position  of  Archdeacon  was  vacant,  and  he  was  fondly 
hoping  that  he  would  be  favoured  with  the  appointment. 
It  would  be  another  step,  so  he  mused,  up  the  ecclesias- 
tical ladder  leading  to  the  Episcopate. 

He  had  forgotten  all  about  his  sermon  and  was  think- 
ing deeply  of  the  prospects  of  his  advancement,  when 
his  curate,  Douglas  Stanton,  entered  the  room  unan- 
nounced. 

''You  are  over  half  an  hour  late,  Stanton,"  Dr.  Ran- 
nage  ehided,  as  he  motioned  his  visitor  to  a  chair. 
"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?" 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  Douglas  replied,  as  he  took  the 
proffered  chair.  ' '  I  intended  to  be  here  on  time,  but  was 
unavoidably  detained. ' ' 

"I  dined  with  the  Bishop  to-night,"  and  Dr.  Rannage 
toyed  with  a  small  paper-weight  as  he  spoke,  "and  was 
forced  to  leave  in  the  midst  of  a  most  important  dis- 
cussion in  order  to  keep  my  appointment  with  you." 

"What  were  you  discussing?"  Douglas  enquired. 

"We  were  considering  the  best  methods  of  dealing 
with  the  submerged  population  of  our  city ;  that  is,  those 
unfortunate  beings  who  inhabit  the  slums  and  the  water- 
front." 

"Did  you  arrive  at  any  definite  conclusion?" 

"We  had  not  time;  for,  as  I  have  just  mentioned,  I 
was  forced  to  come  away  to  meet  you." 

"And  while  you  were  discussing  methods  of  helping 
the  unfortunate,  I  was  rescuing  one  from  the  water 
down  at  Long  Wharf." 


30  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Douglas  spoke  slowly,  and  he  watched  to  see  the  ef- 
fect of  his  words.  But  Dr.  Rannage  did  not  seem  to 
notice  the  implied  sarcasm,  nor  the  sharp  contrast  be- 
tween theory  and  practice. 

"So  that  is  what  you  were  doing,  eh?"  the  latter 
questioned.    "You  seem  to  enjoy  being  down  there.' ' 

"I  enjoy  helping  the  unfortunate,  and  because  I  am 
not  allowed  to  continue  the  work,  I  have  sent  in  my 
resignation. ' ' 

' '  But  you  must  remember  that  you  have  a  duty  to  the 
parish  as  a  whole,  and  not  to  one  portion  of  it  only." 

"Haven't  I  tried  to  do  my  duty?  I  have  visited  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  and  worked  like  a  dog  for  the 
two  years  I  have  been  with  you." 

"But  I  have  received  complaints  that  you  are  unso- 
ciable, and  that  you  refuse  all  invitations  to,  ah,  friendly 
gatherings  and  such  like  affairs." 

"You  mean  card-parties  and  afternoon  teas,  I  sup- 
pose, ' '  Douglas  sharply  replied.  ' '  If  so,  I  plead  guilty. 
Haven't  I  taken  a  keen  interest  in  the  Boy  Scouts,  the 
Young  Men's  Club,  the  Sunday  School,  and  dear  knows 
what  ?  Any  spare  time  I  had  I  spent  at  the  water-front 
in  an  effort  to  follow  my  Master's  example  of  putting 
my  religion  into  practice.  How  dare  I  waste  my  time 
sipping  tea  at  this  house  and  that,  and  talking  nice  lit- 
tle nothings  to  the  butterflies  who  gather  there,  when 
there  is  so  much  to  be  done,  and  precious  souls  to  be 
helped  and  saved?" 

"But  the  butterflies,  of  whom  you  speak  so  contemp- 
tuously, need  to  be  helped  as  well." 

"No  one  knows  that  better  than  I  do,"  Douglas  bit- 
terly assented.  "But  until  they  are  willing  to  throw 
aside  their  vain  pretensions  of  being  the  salt  of  the 


CONSCIENCE  MONEY  31 

earth  and  better  than  others,  I  am  afraid  little  can  be 
done.  They  dislike  me  because  I  speak  my  mind  too 
freely,  and  refuse  to  waste  my  time  at  their  senseless 
gatherings.  They  desire  some  one  who  will  flatter  their 
vanity  and  condone  their  idleness." 

"You  are  making  serious  charges,  young  man,"  Dr. 
Rannage  severely  replied.  His  curate's  words  had  hit 
him  hard,  and  he  winced,  for  he  knew  how  true  they 
were.  "If  that  is  the  feeling  you  entertain  for  inno- 
cent amusements,  it  is  just  as  well  you  should  sever  your 
connection  with  this  parish.  "When  do  you  expect  to 
leave?" 

"At  once." 

"And  where  do  you  intend  to  go?" 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  idea.  The  future  to  me  is 
a  complete  blank.  Something  will  turn  up,  I  suppose. 
If  not,  I  have  two  hands  and  a  strong  body." 

"Look  here,  Stanton,"  and  Dr.  Rannage  swung  sud- 
denly around  on  his  swivel  chair,  "you  must  not  get 
downhearted." 

"I  am  not,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  perhaps  you  are  not,  but  I  do  not  like  the  idea 
of  your  going  from  me  with  nothing  in  view.  Do  you 
know  the  parish  of  Rixton?" 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  of  it,  though  I  know  very  little 
about  it." 

"It  seems  that  it  has  been  vacant  for  some  time,  and 
it  is  most  difficult  to  get  any  one  to  go  there.  By  the 
way,  I  met  Mr.  Simon  Stubbles  at  dinner  to-night.  He 
is  the  leading  man  at  Rixton,  and  the  Bishop  and  I  were 
much  impressed  with  him.  He  is  very  wealthy,  so  I 
understand ;  has  a  large  sawmill,  and  carries  on  exten- 
sive lumbering  operations.     He  is   greatly  concerned 


32  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

about  the  spiritual  welfare  of  Rixton,  and  is  most  anx- 
ious that  a  suitable  clergyman  should  be  sent  there. 
He  is  quite  willing  to  contribute  liberally  if  the  right 
man  is  found.' ' 

"Why  did  the  last  one  leave?"  Douglas  asked. 

"He  was  not  big  enough  for  the  work,  so  I  learned 
from  the  brief  conversation  I  had  with  Mr.  Stubbles. 
It  is  a  most  difficult  parish,  composed  principally  of 
millmen,  woodsmen,  and  a  few  farmers.  It  seems  that 
the  last  clergyman  used  no  tact  at  all  in  dealing  with 
them,  and  thus  antagonised  everybody,  Mr.  Stubbles  in- 
cluded.' ' 

1 '  So  you  think  that  I  would  suit,  do  you  ? ' '  and  Doug- 
las looked  quizzically  at  Dr.  Rannage. 

"I  believe  you  are  just  the  man  for  the  place." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Because  you  know  the  ways  of  such  people.  You 
were  born  in  the  country,  were  you  not?" 

"Why  not  let  young  Harmon  have  a  try  there?  He 
is  one  of  your  boys,  and  has  just  been  ordained.  Would 
it  not  be  well  for  him  to  win  his  spurs  in  a  parish  such 
as  Rixton?" 

"Oh,  but  he  is  a  banker's  son,  you  know,  and  we 
could  not  think  of  sending  him  there." 

"So  I  supposed,"  was  the  bitter  reply,  "though  I 
never  for  a  moment  imagined  that  you  would  so  can- 
didly acknowledge  it." 

"Acknowledge  what?"  Dr.  Rannage  queried. 

1 '  That  because  Harmon  is  a  banker 's  son  he  would  not 
be  sent  to  an  out-of-the-way  country  parish.  His  father 
is  influential  and  can  influence  those  in  authority,  so 
he  is  booked  for  an  important  charge  in  Silverton,  so  I 


CONSCIENCE  MONEY  33 

understand.  I  am  merely  the  son  of  a  poor,  honest 
iarmer,  and  so  any  old  place  will  do  for  me." 

1 '  See  here,  young  man,  you  have  no  right  to  talk  that 
way, ' '  Dr.  Rannage  retorted.  ' l  If  you  continue,  I  shall 
be  compelled  to  report  you  to  the  Bishop." 

"  Report  all  you  like,  but  you  both  know  it's  true, 
and  you  cannot  deny  it.  Harmon  barely  scraped  through 
college,  but  he  is  considered  a  gentleman's  son,  and 
understands  the  ways  of  polite  society.  Mark  my  words, 
his  career  will  be  followed  with  great  interest,  and 
everything  he  does  will  be  noted  and  favourably  com- 
mented upon.  It  will  not  be  long  before  he  will  be  an 
Archdeacon,  or  a  Dean,  and  finally  a  Bishop." 

"Are  you  jealous  of  Harmon?"  Dr.  Rannage  asked. 
"That  is  the  only  conclusion  I  can  draw  from  your 
sarcastic  remarks." 

"Jealousy  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  was  the  quick 
reply.  "It  is  merely  justice  that  I  demand,  a  right  for 
every  man  to  be  judged  according  to  what  he  is  and 
does,  irrespective  of  what  his  father  is,  or  any  influence 
he  may  exert.  The  Church  is  the  last  place  where  such 
injustice  should  be  allowed.  But,  there,  what  is  the 
use  of  my  talking  to  you  or  any  one  else,  when  you 
attribute  my  feeling  to  jealousy?" 

Douglas  had  risen,  and  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  hand 
Teady  to  depart. 

"So  you  don't  feel  inclined  to  try  Rixton,  then?" 

Dr.  Rannage  asked.    He  was  quite  amused  at  his  curate 's 

Is,  and  considered  them  merely  the  outburst  of  a 

hot-headed  youth.    Douglas  noted  this,  and  with  a  great 

effort  controlled  himself. 

"I  shall  consider  the  matter  very  carefully,"  was  his 
reply.    "If  I  decide  to  go,  I  shall  report  to  the  Bishop." 


34  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Wait  a  minute,"  Dr.  Rannage  ordered  as  Douglas 
was  about  to  leave  the  room.  "There  is  something  I 
almost  overlooked.  You  received  your  cheque  for  last 
month,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  the  treasurer  gave  it  to  me  several  days  ago." 

"There  was  a  meeting  of  the  vestry  last  night,  and  I 
mentioned  that  you  had  sent  in  your  resignation,"  Dr. 
Rannage  explained. 

"And  I  suppose  all  the  members  were  delighted  with 
the  news." 

"Why  should  they?  They  are  all  business  men,  and 
look  well  after  the  temporalities  of  St.  Margaret's.  They 
paid  tribute  to  your  earnest  work,  and  as  a  token  of 
appreciation  they  asked  me  to  give  you  this,"  and  Dr. 
Rannage  handed  the  young  man  a  cheque.  "I  think 
this  will  prove  to  you  better  than  many  words  how 
generous  the  members  of  the  vestry  really  are." 

Douglas  took  the  cheque  in  his  hand  and  studied  it 
very  carefully.  In  fact,  he  looked  at  it  so  long  with- 
out saying  anything  that  Dr.  Rannage  was  surprised. 

1 '  Are  you  not  satisfied  with  it  ? "  he  curtly  asked,  not- 
ing the  flush  which  was  slowly  stealing  over  Douglas' 
face.  ' '  I  took  it  upon  myself  to  ask  something  for  you, 
thinking  that  it  would  give  you  considerable  pleasure. ' > 

"I  am  not  considering  the  amount  of  the  cheque," 
Douglas  replied,  "but  something  far  more  important. 
St.  Margaret's  is  a  rich  church,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  was  the  reluctant  assent. 

"The  richest  in  the  city?" 

"Yes.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  that  cheque?" 
Dr.  Rannage  angrily  retorted. 

"It  is  heavily  endowed,  and  there  was  a  big  surplus 


CONSCIENCE  MONEY  35 

last  Easter,  according  to  the  Year  Book,"  Douglas  con- 
tinued, unheeding  his  rector's  annoyance. 

"We  have  good  business  men  on  the  vestry/ '  Dr. 
Eannage  proudly  explained,  "and  that  is  the  main  rea- 
son why  we  are  in  such  excellent  financial  condition. 
They  have  been  most  careful  to  invest  all  moneys  where 
they  bring  in 'big  returns/ ' 

"What  did  they  give  me  this  for,  then?"  Douglas 
asked  as  he  held  forth  the  cheque.  "It  must  have 
wrung  their  souls  to  part  with  one  hundred  dollars  for 
nothing." 

"Oh,  that  was  given  merely  out  of  appreciation  for 
your  good  work  in  the  parish." 

"Since  when  have  they  become  appreciative?" 

"Why,  haven't  they  been  always  so?" 

"If  they  were,  they  never  showed  any  signs  of  it.  It 
seemed  to  me  just  the  opposite,  especially  when  I  asked 
them  for  a  few  hundred  dollars  last  fall  to  rent  a  build- 
ing as  a  shelter  for  the  unfortunate  on  the  water-front. 
They  told  me  pretty  plainly  what  they  thought  of  my 
'new-fangled  notion,'  as  they  called  it." 

"They  were  merely  cautious,  that  was  all,"  Dr.  Ran- 
nage  defended.  "As  I  told  you,  they  are  all  good  busi- 
ness men,  and  they  wished  to  be  sure  that  the  invest- 
ment would,  ah " 

"Pay,"  Douglas  assisted,  as  his  rector  hesitated. 
"Yes,  that  was  just  it.  They  thought  it  wouldn't  pay 
in  dollars  and  cents,  so  they  refused  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  it.  The  return  in  lives  helped  and  souls 
saved  did  not  trouble  them  in  the  least.  But  now,  when 
they  know  that  I  am  going,  perhaps  they  may  have  had 
a  twinge  of  conscience;  that  is,  if  they  have  any,  and 


36  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

what  they  have  given  me  is  nothing  more  than  con- 
science money. " 

These  words  brought  Dr.  Rannage  suddenly  to  his 
feet.  He  had  always  prided  himself  upon  his  self-con- 
trol, but  such  a  charge  made  by  any  man,  especially  a 
mere  curate,  was  more  than  he  could  endure. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  talking  that  way?"  he  de- 
manded. "Ever  since  you  entered  this  room  you  have 
been  as  ugly  as " 

' '  The  devil, ' '  Douglas  assisted  as  Dr.  Rannage  paused. 
"You  might  as  well  say  it  as  think  it.  If  telling  the 
truth,  and  telling  it  plainly  is  being  ugly,  then  I  plead 
guilty.  I  question  if  what  I  have  said  will  be  of  any 
benefit  to  you,  but  it  has  done  a  great  deal  of  good  to 
me.  It  has  somewhat  relieved  my  mind,  and  that  is 
worth  something." 

! '  You  will  relieve  my  mind,  if  you  will  go, ' '  Dr.  Ran- 
nage retorted.  "It  is.absolutely  ridiculous  that  I  should 
be  talked  to  in  this  manner,  especially  after  what  I  have 
done  for  you." 

"Oh,  you  mean  this?"  and  Douglas  glanced  at  the 
cheque.  ' '  Well,  then,  I  wish  to  show  you  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  vestry  how  I  value  such,  ahem,  appreciation. 
Look!" 

Holding  the  cheque  up  with  both  hands,  he  delib- 
erately tore  it  into  bits,  and  then,  crossing  the  room,  he 
threw  the  pieces  into  the  fireplace. 

' '  There,  I  feel  better  now, ' '  he  quietly  remarked.  * '  So, 
good -night. ' ' 

Before  Dr.  Rannage  could  recover  from  his  astonish- 
ment, the  study  door  opened  and  closed,  and  Douglas 
Stanton  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  IV 


SECRET   PLANS 


HELLO!  what's  the  rush?" 
Douglas  Stanton  stopped  short,  and  a  smile 
overspread  his  face  as  he  turned  it  upon  the  beaming 
countenance  of  the  man  standing  before  him. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Garton,  is  it?    I  didn't  see  you." 

"You  certainly  didn't.  Why,  you  were  cutting  a  two- 
forty  clip." 

"I'm  late  for  tea,"  Douglas  explained. 

"So  am  I,"  Garton  returned.  "Just  before  I  left 
the  office,  I  was  called  down  to  the  drill-shed  to  make  a 
presentation  to  one  of  our  men  who  is  about  to  get  mar- 
ried. Kit  will  be  furious  with  me  for  staying  so  long. 
AVomen  don't  like  to  be  kept  waiting,  you  know.  Kit 
doesn't,  anyway.  She  says  the  kids  will  make  it  hot 
for  me  when  I  get  home." 

"You're  a  lucky  brute,  Garton,  to  have  a  home  to 
go  to,  and  a  wife  and  such  kids  as  yours." 

"I  certainly  am.  But,  say,  Stanton,  come  and  have 
dinner  with  us." 

"How  can  I?  Your  wife  won't  be  expecting  me,  and 
I  shall  be  intruding." 

"Look  here,  old  man,"  and  Garton  laid  his  hand  af- 
fectionately upon  his  companion's  shoulder,  "don't  you 
know  that  you  are  always  welcome  at  our  house?    Kit 

37 


33  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

will  be  delighted  to  see  you,  and  the  kids  will  go  about 
crazy.  They  will  be  more  than  surprised,  for  we  were 
afraid  that  we  had  seen  the  last  of  you." 

"Well,  I'll  go,  then,"  Douglas  assented,  and  the  two 
started  off  at  a  rapid  pace. 

1 '  So  you  have  decided  to  leave  ? ' '  Garton  asked,  after 
they  had  gone  a  short  distance. 

"You've  heard  the  news,  then?"  Douglas  queried. 

"Sure;  though  I  doubted  it  at  first." 

"Yes,  I'm  going.  I've  just  had  a  talk  with  the 
Bishop,  and  that  was  what  kept  me  late." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"Oh,  he  doesn't  mind.  I'm  too  small  a  fish  for  him 
to  worry  about.  He  was  so  busy  all  the  afternoon  that 
I  was  kept  waiting  until  the  eleventh  hour,  and  accord- 
ingly was  favoured  with  only  a  few  minutes." 

Garton  detected  the"  note  of  bitterness  in  his  com- 
panion's voice,  and  did  not  question  him  any  further 
just  then.  When  at  length  within  the  house,  and  taken 
possession  of  by  the  Garton  "kids" — two  boys  and  a 
girl — Douglas  became  entirely  changed.  There  was  a 
lively  romp  first  of  all,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
Mrs.  Garton  could  induce  the  children  to  release  their 
victim  long  enough  to  come  to  dinner.  Then,  at  the 
table  there  was  a  contest  as  to  who  should  sit  next  to  the 
guest. 

It  was  a  happy  family  into  which  Douglas  had  en- 
tered. This  was  the  one  home  in  the  whole  city  where 
he  could  feel  perfectly  at  his  ease,  for  he  knew  that  he 
was  sincerely  welcome.  Ever  since  his  coming  to  St. 
Margaret's,  Charles  Garton  had  been  his  firm  friend. 
Notwithstanding  his  big  legal  practice,  this  brilliant  law- 
yer was  always  ready  and  willing  to  assist  the  young 


SECRET  PLANS  30 

curate,  and  Douglas  found  it  a  great  comfort  to  go  to 
him  for  advice. 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  am  a  great  intruder  to-night,"" 
he  told  Mrs.  Garton.  "But  you  must  blame  your  hus- 
band this  time." 

"I  shall  absolve  him  from  all  his  past  sins  for  bring- 
ing you,"  was  the  smiling  reply.  "We  were  afraid 
that  you  were  going  to  leave  the  city  without  coming 
to  bid  us  good-bye." 

1 '  I  hope  I  am  not  so  ungrateful  as  that,  after  all  your 
kindness  to  me." 

"We  shall  miss  you  very  much,  Mr.  Stanton.  I 
hardly  know  how  the  children  will  get  along  without 
you." 

"Oh,  I  shall  drop  in  on  you  one  of  these  days  when 
you're  least  expecting  me." 

"Are  you  going  far  away?" 

"Merely  to  Rixton." 

1 '  Rixton ! ' '  Mr.  Garton  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  why  not?    Some  one  must  go  there." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  the  place?" 

"Very  little.  I  have  been  told  that  it  is  a  hard  par- 
ish, and  that  the  last  rector  was  forced  to  leave." 

1 '  I  should  say  it  is.  Why,  they  Ve  killed  several  men 
there  already,  and  do  you  want  to  be  added  to  the 
number?" 

"Killed  them!  did  you  say?"  Douglas  asked  in  sur- 
prise.    "I  never  heard  it  was  as  bad  as  that." 

"Oh,  well,  they  didn't  actually  kill  them,  but  they 
tried  to  do  so,  it  appears,  and  you  know  what  the  Bible 
says  about  having  murder  in  the  heart." 

Douglas  mnde  ro  reply  to  these  words  but  went  on 
with  his  dinner.    It  was  only  when  he  and  Mr.  Garton 


40  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

r 

were  comfortably  ensconced  in  big  chairs  in  the  library, 
enjoying  a  quiet  smoke,  that  Douglas  referred  to  the 
subject  which  had  been  abruptly  dropped. 

''Do  you  know  much  about  Rixton?"  he  asked. 
\    i  '  Quite  a  bit,  from  hearsay.    It 's  a  queer  community, 
so  I  understand,  and  the  Church  has  had  a  mighty  hard 
struggle  there/ ' 

''What's  wrong  with  it,  anyway?" 

"I  can't  exactly  say.  But  no  clergyman  has  been  able 
to  hold  his  own  there  for  years.  It  may  have  been  their 
fault,  and  perhaps  if  the  right  man  goes  to  the  parish, 
things  might  be  all  right.  I  wish  to  goodness  you  were 
going  anywhere  else  than  to  Rixton.  I  wonder  what 
the  Bishop  is  thinking  about  to  send  you  to  that  place. ' ' 

''Merely  because  he  thinks  that  I  know  the  ways  of 
such  people,  as  I  was  brought  up  in  the  country." 

"We  want  you  here  in  the  city,  though,"  and  Gar- 
ton  savagely  blew  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  across  the 
room. 

"But  Dr.  Rannage  and  the  majority  of  the  people  of 
St.  Margaret's  don't  want  me.  They  are  delighted  to 
think  that  I  am  going." 

"Yes,  so  I  understand,  confound  their  skins!  They 
want  some  little  snipper-snapper  who  can  dance  attend- 
ance upon  all  the  pink-teas  that  are  held,  and  shine  in 
social  circles." 

j  "I  could  not  suit  them,"  Douglas  slowly  explained, 
'"because  the  spirit  of  adventure  runs  in  my  veins.  I 
would  like  to  be  a  prospector  or  an  explorer,  and  launch 
out  into  the  unknown.  As  soon  as  I  entered  the  Min- 
istry, I  looked  around  tor  some  untouched  field  in  which 
to  enter.  The  complex  life  along  the  water-front  ap- 
pealed to  me  more  than  the  conventional  work  in  St. 


SECRET  PLANS  41 

Margaret's.  There  are  great  opportunities  there,  es- 
pecially during  the  winter  season.  But,  alas!  my  plans 
have  been  overturned,  and  I  must  give  it  all  up.  I  have 
often  thought  of  the  mission  field,  and  when  an  opening 
occurs  I  hope  to  go.  At  present  the  parish  of  Rixton 
is  without  a  clergyman,  and  most  likely  it  will  remain 
so  for  some  time  unless  I  go.  It  is  a  very  difficult  par- 
ish, so  I  understand,  and  it  accordingly  appeals  to  me. 
I  am  quite  curious  to  know  just  what  is  the  trouble, 
and  in  what  way  it  is  different  from  other  country  dis- 
tricts.    Have  you  any  idea?" 

"It  is  somewhat  of  a  puzzle  to  me/'  Garton  replied. 
"It  really  should  be  an  ideal  parish,  for  nearly  all  of 
the  people  belong  to  our  Church.  Mr.  Stubbles  himself 
is  a  member,  and  senior  warden,  so  I  believe." 

"You  know  him,  then?" 

"Yes,  in  a  way.  1  have  had  some  business  dealings 
with  him,  and  incidentally  I  have  talked  with  him  about 
Church  affairs  at  Rixton.  He  has  always  seemed  greatly 
interested." 

"And  he  laid  the  blame,  I  suppose,  upon  the  clergy- 
men?" 

1 '  Invariably.  He  said  they  did  not  understand  coun- 
try people,  and  could  not  adapt  themselves  to  their  ways, 
but  held  severely  aloof." 

"There  must  be  some  other  cause,"  Douglas  mused, 
"and  I  must  find  out  what  it  is." 

"When  do  you  expect  to  go?"  Garton  enquired. 

"To-morrow." 

1 '  What !  so  soon  ?  Why  not  take  a  holiday  ?  You  cer- 
tainly need  it,  if  any  one  does." 

"I  have  asked  for  two  months.    I  told  the  Bishop  this 


42  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

afternoon  that  only  on  that  understanding  would  I  take 
charge  of  Rixton." 

"But  you  have  just  told  me  that  you  are  going  there 
to-morrow!"  Garton  exclaimed. 

Douglas  laughed. 
* '  Look  here,  old  man,  I  have  a  plan,  and  I  want  to  tell 
it  to  you,  if  you  will  promise  that  you  will  not  speak 
of  it  to  any  one  except  your  wife.    I  know  she  will  keep 
the  secret." 

"And  I  guess  I  can,  too,"  Garton  assented.  "I  keep 
a  good  many  for  my  clients,  and  one  more  will  not  over- 
burden me." 

"lam  going  to  spend  my  vacation  in  Rixton, ' '  Doug- 
las explained.    "What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Garton  asked  in  surprise. 

"Simply  that  I  am  going  there  as  an  ordinary  farm- 
hand and  work  for  my  living  for  two  months." 

"Good  heavens!"  Garton  was  so  astonished  at  this 
revelation  that  he  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  over 
his  clothes.  "Are  you  going  crazy,  Stanton?  What 
will  the  Bishop  and  the  people  of  Rixton  think  of  such 
a  thing?" 

"They  are  not  to  know  anything  about  it  until  it  is 
all  over.  You  and  Mrs.  Garton  will  be  the  only  ones 
who  will  be  aware  of  this  freak  of  mine,  so  if  I  get 
killed,  you  might  give  me  a  decent  burial." 

"Suppose  in  case  of  your  death  it  should  be  consid- 
ered wilful  suicide,  what  then?"  Garton  asked,  while 
an  amused  twinkle  shone  in  his  eyes.  "We  won't  be 
able  to  get  any  one  to  read  the  Burial  Service  over  you. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  it  will  be  as  bad  as  that.  The 
people  won't  know  that  I  am  a  clergyman,  and  they  will 
not  think  it  worth  while  to  bother  a  farm-hand.    I  shall 


SECRET  PLANS  43 

be  just  plain  John  Handyman  to  them,  and  nothing 
more. ' ' 

"What  put  such  a  notion  into  your  head,  anyhow?" 
Garton  enquired. 

"I  wish  to  learn  what  is  wrong  with  the  parish  of 
Rixton,"  was  the  reply.  "I  want  to  get  down  to  bed- 
rock, so  to  speak,  and  find  out  just  what  is  the  trouble." 

* '  But  how  will  your  going  as  a  farm-hand  help  you  ? ' ' 

"I  shall  have  a  better  chance  to  see  things  in  their 
true  light.  If  I  go  as  a  clergyman,  people  will  naturally 
be  somewhat  suspicious  of  me,  and  will  say  things  be- 
hind my  back  which  they  will  not  say  to  my  face.  But 
John  Handyman  will  be  of  little  account  in  their  esti- 
mation, and  they  will  express  their  views  in  his  pres- 
ence freely  and  openly." 

"Does  it  not  seem  like  taking  a  mean  advantage  of 
them?"  Garton  queried. 

"I  can't  see  it  that  way.  I  wish  to  diagnose  that 
parish  and  find  out  what  is  the  trouble.  There  is  a 
serious  disease  of  some  kind  there,  and  unless  I  know 
what  it  is  before  taking  charge  I  may  make  all  kinds 
of  mistakes,  and  thus  render  the  work  much  more  diffi- 
cult. If,  in  this  way,  I  can  accomplish  my  object  and 
do  good  to  the  people  of  Rixton,  I  cannot  see  how  I 
shall  be  taking  a  mean  advantage  of  them.  If  the  fault 
has  been  with  the  clergymen  who  have  been  there,  I 
want  to  know  it ;  but  if  the  people  are  to  blame,  I  want 
to  know  that  as  well." 

"I  see  you  believe  in  understanding  the  people  among 
whom  you  work,"  Garton  remarked. 

"Certainly.  It  seems  to  me  that  too  many  of  our 
clergy  do  not  understand  their  parishioners,  especially 
so   in   country   districts.      It   was   not   always  so,   but 


44  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

changes  have  taken  place  in  recent  years.  How  well  I 
remember  my  old  rector,  the  one  whose  life  I  so  revere, 
and  principally  through  whose  influence  my  mind  was 
first  turned  toward  the  Ministry.  He  was  a  saint,  if 
ever  there  was  one,  and  he  looked  well  after  his  flock. 
He  knew  his  people  intimately,  not  merely  officially,  but 
in  a  sympathetic  and  loving  way.  He  knew  them  all 
by  name,  even  to  the  smallest  child.  Their  concerns  were 
his,  and  he  entered  into  their  joys  and  sorrows  as  one 
of  them,  and  not  as  a  mere  outsider.  Why,  it  was  won- 
derful how  much  he  knew  about  farming,  stock-raising, 
and  such  like.  He  could  talk  as  intelligently  to  the 
men  about  their  farms  as  he  could  to  the  women  about 
their  children.  He  was  one  of  them ;  he  loved  them  and 
they  knew  it." 

Douglas'  eyes  shone  as  he  thus  bore  testimony  to  the 
worth  of  his  old  rector,  and  when  he  suddenly  ceased 
he  sat  gazing  straight  before  him  as  if  he  beheld  a  vision. 

"Is  he  living  yet?"  Garton  asked. 

"No,  he  died  years  ago,  when  I  was  about  seventeen." 

"He  must  have  been  a  remarkable  man." 

"He  certainly  was,  and  his  was  the  model  parish  in 
the  whole  diocese." 

"Is  it  the  same  now?" 

An  angry  light  suddenly  leaped  into  Douglas'  eyes,  as 
he  turned  them  upon  his  companion's  face. 

"No,  it  is  not  the  same,"  he  slowly  replied.  "The 
parish  has  gone  to  pieces,  and  the  changes  which  have 
taken  place  there  make  my  heart  ache." 

"Why,  what  has  been  the  cause?"  Garton  enquired. 

"It  is  due  to  the  men  who  were  sent  there  after  the 
death  of  my  old  rector.  The  first  man  who  went  had 
no  patience  with  the  people  in  their  loyalty  to  his  pred- 


SECRET  PLANS  45 

ecessor,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  hear  them  tell  of  the 
work  which  had  been  done  in  the  past.  He  became 
jealous,  said  sharp  things,  and  turned  the  people  against 
him.  The  next  man  took  no  interest  in  the  things  which 
concern  an  agricultural  people.  He  openly  said  that  he 
hated  farming,  and  that  he  was  only  staying  in  the 
parish  until  he  could  get  a  better  one.  He  moved  on 
after  he  had  driven  a  number  of  members  from  the 
Church.  The  third  was  not  satisfied  with  the  services, 
so  he  introduced  many  things  which  were  distasteful 
to  the  people,  especially  the  older  members.  He  is  there 
yet,  but  there  is  a  sad  division  in  the  parish,  and  he  has 
only  a  very  small  following.  Those  three  men  could  not 
understand  the  people  among  whom  they  worked.  I 
do  not  want  to  make  the  same  mistake  at  Rixton,  and 
so  I  am  going  to  spy  out  the  land." 

"Oh,  you'll  make  out  all  right,"  Garton  replied,  as 
he  laid  the  butt  of  his  cigar  carefully  on  the  ash-tray. 
1  ■  You  11  have  no  trouble.  Get  on  the  good  side  of  Stub- 
bles, and  he'll  see  you  through.  You  can't  afford  to 
lose  the  support  of  such  a  man  as  that,  who  has  so  great 
an  influence  in  Rixton.  Anyway,  if  you  need  help,  bank 
on  me.  I  am  always  at  your  service.  I'll  bring  my 
whole  battalion  to  your  assistance.  Just  send  for  Col. 
Garton  of  the  65th,  and  he'll  be  there  with  his  men  in 
no  time.  But,  say,  there's  Kit  at  the  piano;  let's  go 
and  have  one  more  good  sing  together,  and  forget  all 
about  disagreeable  Church  matters  for  the  present. ' ' 


CHAPTER  V 


PUT   TO   THE   TEST 


THERE  was  a  special  reason  why  Douglas  Stanton 
walked  slowly  along  the  road  leading  from  the 
railway  station  through  the  parish  of  Rixton.  It  was  a 
warm,  beautiful  evening,  and  the  magnificent  scenery 
so  appealed  to  him  that  he  had  not  the  heart  to  hurry. 
How  good  it  was  to  be  away  from  the  noise  and  dust 
of  the  city !  Here  he  could  breathe  the  pure,  fresh  air, 
listen  to  the  music  of  the  birds,  and  rest  his  eyes  upon 
meadows,  flowers  and  trees.  He  felt  at  home,  and  the 
spirit  of  childhood  days  possessed  him.  He  longed  to 
wade  in  every  brook  he  saw,  and  roll  in  the  grass  by 
the  side  of  the  road. 

He  had  walked  about  five  miles  and  was  somewhat 
tired,  as  he  was  carrying  a  large  bag  over  his  shoulder, 
and  his  precious  violin  case  under  his  arm.  He  was  no 
longer  dressed  in  his  clerical  garb,  but  was  plain  John 
Handyman  in  rough  work-a-day  clothes.  He  enquired 
the  way  from  several  people  he  met,  and  these  had  looked 
with  curiosity  upon  the  bag  and  box  he  was  carrying. 

"Huntin'  for  work,  eh?"  the  last  man  he  had  ac- 
costed asked.  "Well,  Jake  Jukes  wants  a  man  in  the 
worst  way.  Heard  him  say  so  last  night.  He  lives  about 
half  a  mile  further  on.  Ye  can't  mistake  the  place,  for 
it's  just  across  the  road  from  the  rectory." 

46 


PUT  TO  THE  TEST  47 

"How  will  I  know  the  rectory  when  I  come  to  it?" 
Douglas  enquired. 

"Oh,  ye  can't  mistake  it  very  well.  It  is  a  big  house 
with  shutters  on  the  windows,  and  tall  grass  all  around. 
It 's  been  closed  up  for  about  a  year  now. ' ' 

This  was  just  the  information  Douglas  needed,  and 
thanking  the  man,  he  moved  on  his  way.  Presently,  the 
road  dipped  into  a  wooded  valley,  and  part  way  down 
the  hill,  Douglas  espied  a  large  barrel  overflowing  with 
clear,  sparkling  water.  Stopping,  he  opened  his  bag 
and  drew  forth  a  small  tin  cup.  This  he  filled  with 
water,  and  then  withdrew  a  short  distance  among  the 
trees  and  sat  down  upon  the  mossy  ground.  Mrs.  Gar- 
ton  had  thoughtfully  provided  him  with  a  generous 
lunch,  and  this  he  now  opened  and  spread  out  before 
him.  He  was  hungry,  so  the  sandwiches  and  cold  meat 
seemed  the  best  he  had  ever  tasted.  There  was  a  piece 
of  pie,  as  well  as  cake,  for  dessert,  and  what  more  could 
a  king  desire?  he  asked  himself.  How  delightful  it  was 
to  lie  there  and  rest  in  such  a  quiet  place.  He  was 
free  to  come  and  go  as  he  wished,  and  not  shackled  by 
any  rules  of  conventional  life.  The  whole  country  was 
his  to  wander  at  will.  Why  should  he  not  do  it?  He 
had  only  himself  to  care  for,  and  his  strong  arms  could 
provide  the  simple  necessities  of  daily  life.  Why  spend 
his  time  in  the  service  of  others,  when  his  efforts  were 
either  misunderstood  or  not  appreciated  ?  He  was  tired 
of  being  dictated  to,  and  told  what  to  do.  He  was  just 
as  able  to  look  after  his  own  affairs  as  the  Bishop  and 
Dr.  Rannage.  They  did  not  care  a  snap  for  him,  neither 
did  the  Church,  for  that  matter.  He  was  but  a  fly  on 
one  of  the  wheels  of  the  great  ecclesiastical  machine,  and 
counted  for  nothing. 


48  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Such  thoughts  appealed  to  Douglas  more  than  ever 
before,  and  he  meditated  upon  them  as  he  once  more 
continued  on  his  way.  He  had  been  trained  to  look 
with  suspicion  upon  people  who  held  such  views,  but 
now  he  realised  how  attractive  they  were,  and  worthy  of 
more  careful  consideration.  Life,  after  all,  was  not 
summed  up  in  the  books  he  had  studied,  nor  in  the 
knowledge  he  had  acquired  while  at  college.  No,  there 
was  the  great  pulsing  world  all  around  him,  and  why 
should  he  go  through  it  fettered  in  soul,  mind  and  body  1 

Thinking  thus,  he  came  to  the  rectory.  The  gate  lead- 
ing into  the  yard  was  closed.  This  he  pushed  open,  en- 
tered, and  walked  around  the  house.  Signs  of  neglect 
and  decay  were  most  apparent.  The  building  had  not 
been  painted  for  years,  and  the  shingles  on  the  roof 
were  in  a  bad  condition.  Grass  and  weeds  ran  riot  right 
up  to  the  very  windows.  He  tried  both  the  front  and 
back  doors  but  they  were  fastened. 

Amidst  this  scene  of  desolation,  Douglas  stood  and 
looked  out  over  the  land  connected  with  the  rectory. 
There  were  several  acres,  sloping  gently  to  the  river 
about  two  hundred  yards  away.  Trees  lined  the  shore, 
and  his  attention  was  especially  attracted  to  one  large 
elm  which  towered  gracefully  above  its  fellows.  Only 
a  small  part  of  the  land  surrounding  the  rectory  had 
been  cultivated.  The  rest,  which  had  been  used  for  pas- 
turage, was  covered  with  small  bushes.  Several  apple 
trees  stood  back  of  the  house,  but  these  had  not  been 
trimmed  for  years,  and  the  bark  and  moss  were  thick 
upon  their  trunks.  "My,  how  I  would  like  to  get  to 
work  upon  this  place,"  Douglas  thought,  as  he  moved 
over  toward  the  small  orchard.  ' '  They  seem  to  be  good 
trees,  and  when  once  well  scraped  and  their  tops  thinned 


PUT  TO  THE  TEST  4£ 

out,  they  should  bear  well.  Why,  a  man  with  some 
knowledge  of  farming  could  make  a  comfortable  living 
in  a  few  years  on  such  a  place  as  this." 

Near  the  orchard  was  a  barn,  with  the  two  big  doors 
off  their  hinges,  having  been  injured  evidently  by  the 
wind.  There  was  nothing  in  the  barn  except  a  pile  of 
old  hay  lying  upon  the  floor.  "That  looks  good  to  me," 
Douglas  mused.  "I  shall  have  a  soft  bed  to-night,  any- 
way. It  is  getting  dark,  and  I  might  as  well  stay  here 
as  anywhere.  I  wonder  what  the  people  of  this  parish 
would  say  if  they  knew  that  their  future  clergyman  is 
occupying  the  rectory  barn.  He  might  have  a  worse 
place,  though,  and  perhaps  he  may  before  he  is  through. " 

Douglas  was  tired  and  slept  soundly.  The  night  was 
warm,  and  his  coat  was  all  the  covering  he  needed.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  sleeping  but  a  short 
time  when  he  was  awakened  by  a  strange  and  yet  fa- 
miliar noise.  Opening  his  eyes,  he  could  not  for  a  mo- 
ment imagine  where  he  was.  Before  him,  and  just  out- 
side the  door,  a  herd  of  cattle  was  trooping  past.  They 
were  much  startled  to  see  a  man  lying  in  the  barn,  and 
several  of  them  had  given  vent  to  coarse  bellows  as 
they  stood  staring  in  upon  him.  Presently  he  heard  a 
man's  voice  shouting  to  the  cattle  to  "git  along  out  of 
that.  What's  the  matter  with  ye,  anyway?"  Then  a 
stick  was  hurled  at  them,  which  caused  them  to  scamper 
away.  Soon  the  man  appeared,  and  when  he  saw  what 
had  caused  the  commotion  among  the  cattle,  he,  too, 
stood  and  stared  in  amazement  for  a  few  seconds.  Then 
he  took  several  steps  forward,  and  held  up  the  stout 
he  was  carrying  in  his  hand. 
.  what  are  ye  doin'  there?"  he  demanded. 


50  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Haven't  you  eyes  to  see  for  yourself?"  Douglas 
asked  in  reply. 

' '  But  don 't  ye  know  that  this  is  private  property  ? ' ' 

"That's  just  the  reason  I'm  here.  It's  so  very  pri- 
vate that  it  suits  me  fine." 

"You  have  no  business  sleepin'  in  this  barn." 

"I'm  not  sleeping.  I  am  as  wide  awake  as  you  are. 
Do  you  own  this  place?" 

"No,  but  I  have  charge  of  it.  It's  Church  property, 
and  as  I  live  jist  across  the  road  I  have  been  asked  to 
keep  an  eye  over  it  an'  put  all  intruders  off." 

Douglas  liked  the  appearance  of  this  fellow,  notwith- 
standing his  pugnacious  manner.  He  had  an  honest 
face,  and  bright  blue  eyes,  in  whose  depths  lurked  a 
merry  twinkle.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  this  was 
Jake  Jukes  who  wanted  a  farm  hand. 

"Come  and  put  me  off,  then,"  Douglas  quietly  re- 
marked, as  he  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  "I  am  anxious 
for  a  little  excitement.  It  will  give  me  an  appetite  for 
my  breakfast." 

"Where  are  you  goin'  to  git  it?"  the  farmer  asked. 

"At  your  place." 

"At  my  place!" 

"Certainly.  You  are  Jake  Jukes,  are  you  not?  You 
want  a  man  to  help  with  your  haying,  and  I  am  going  to 
stay." 

"Great  punkins!  How  d'ye  know  who  I  am?"  and 
Jake  looked  his  astonishment. 

"Oh,  never  mind  that.  Do  you  want  me?  That  is 
more  important." 

"Well,  I  do  need  help  very  bad,  but  I  must  know 
what  wages  ye  want  before  I  hire  ye.  I  can't  make  an 
offer  until  I  find  out  what  ye  kin  do." 


PUT  TO  THE  TEST  51 

"I'll  work  a  week  with  you  for  board  and  lodging. 
That  will  give  you  time  to  try  me  out,  and  then  you 
will  know  what  I  am  worth.  I'll  bet  almost  anything, 
though,  that  I  am  just  as  good  a  man  as  you  are." 

"Ho,  ho,"  Jake  laughed.  "As  good  a  man  as  I  am! 
Ye  don 't  know  what  ye  're  sayin  \  Would  ye  like  to  try 
a  back-hold  with  me?  There  isn't  a  man  in  the  whole 
parish  of  Kixton  who  has  been  able  to  put  me  down  yit, 
though  many  of  'em  have  tried." 

As  a  lad  at  school,  and  also  while  at  college,  Douglas 
had  excelled  in  wrestling,  but  for  several  years  he  had 
not  engaged  in  the  sport,  and  was  not  in  proper  con- 
dition. He  knew  that  if  it  came  to  the  matter  of  physi- 
cal endurance  he  would  have  little  chance  against  this 
sturdy  farmer.  But  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  do 
something  of  a  worthy  nature  at  the  outset  of  his  career 
in  this  parish. 

"So  you  think  you*  can  put  me  down,  do  you?"  he 
asked,  as  he  stepped  from  the  barn  out  upon  the  grass. 
"Well,  then,  here's  your  opportunity." 

Nothing  loath,  Jake  accepted  the  challenge,  and  in  a 
trice  the  two  were  locked  together  in  a  friendly  yet 
desperate  encounter.  Douglas  soon  found  that  Jake  was 
depending  mostly  upon  his  great  strength  of  body  to 
win,  and  that  he  was  acquainted  with  hardly  any  of  the 
tricks  of  the  game.  He,  therefore,  watched  his  oppor- 
tunity, at  the  same  time  being  careful  not  to  allow  his 
opponent  to  make  use  of  his  bear-like  crushing  grip. 
This  was  what  Jake  was  striving  for,  and  he  was  much 
worried  when  he  found  that  he  could  not  carry  out  the 
plan  which  had  always  proved  so  effective  in  the  past, 
lie  became  puzzled,  and  so  confused  that  ere  long  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  caught  off  guard,  with  the  result 


52  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

that  his  feet  went  suddenly  from  under  him  and  he  came 
to  the  ground  upon  his  back  with  a  thud.  The  shock 
affected  his  pride  more  than  it  did  his  body,  especially 
when  his  opponent  sat  upon  him  and  smiled  calmly  down 
into  his  face. 

1 '  Are  you  satisfied  now  ? ' '  Douglas  asked.  ' '  You  may 
get  up  if  you  are." 

* '  Great  punkins ! ' '  Jake  exclaimed,  as  he  scrambled  to 
his  feet.  "How  in  the  world  did  ye  do  it?  Ye 're  the 
first  one  who  ever  put  me  down,  blister  me  shins  if  ye 
ain't" 

"Oh,  you  are  an  easy  mark,"  Douglas  replied.  "Why, 
I  didn't  half  try." 

"Ye  didn't!"  and  Jake's  eyes  and  mouth  opened  wide 
in  amazement.  "WTiat  could  ye  have  done  if  ye  really 
tried?" 

Douglas  was  amused  at  Jake's* astonishment. 

' '  Are  you  willing  to  hire  me  now  ? "  he  asked.  ' '  Per- 
haps you  want  some  further  proof  of  my  ability  to  hold 
my  own?" 

"I  don't  want  to  try  any  more  back-holds  with  ye," 
Jake  ruefully  replied,  as  he  rubbed  his  bruised  right 
shoulder.  "Ye've  got  the  cinch  on  me  in  that  game  all 
right,  and  I  'd  like  to  know  how  ye  did  it.  But  I  '11  try 
ye  in  runnin',  and  if  ye  beat  me  in  that  ye 're  a  better 
all  round  man  than  I  am." 

1 '  All  right, ' '  Douglas  laughingly  assented.  ' '  How  far 
shall  we  run  ?  I  guess  we  '11  have  big  appetites  after  all 
this  morning's  exercise." 

"See  that  tree?"  and  Jake  pointed  to  the  graceful 
elm  down  by  the  shore.  "Let's  run  down  around  that 
an'  back  to  this  barn." 


PUT  TO  THE  TEST  53 

"  I  *m  ready, ' '  Douglas  cried.  '  *  One,  two,  three,  go ! ' ' 
he  shouted. 

They  got  a  fair  start  and  bounded  over  the  field  like 
two  greyhounds  slipped  from  the  leash.  Shoulder  to 
shoulder  they  ran,  and  by  the  time  they  reached  the 
tree  there  was  not  the  slightest  difference  between  them. 
They  both  strove  for  the  advantage  of  the  upper  ground 
in  drawing  near  the  elm,  with  the  result  that  they  nearly 
collided  with  each  other.  With  a  whoop  Jake  took  the 
lead  in  his  dash  around  the  tree,  with  Douglas  right  at 
his  heels.  But  at  that  instant  a  form  leaped  suddenly 
to  his  feet  with  a  wild  cry  of  fear,  and  then  went  down 
again  as  the  two  runners  dashed  into  him,  and  then 
sprawled  full  length  forward. 

Douglas  was  first  to  recover,  for  Jake  had  some  difft- 
culty  in  extricating  himself  from  the  thicket  of  tangled 
bushes  into  which  he  had  plunged.  Standing  nearby 
was  the  cause  of  their  mishap.  He  was  a  tall,  lank 
youth  of  about  seventeen,  very  thinly  clad,  and  bare- 
footed. His  expression  of  fear  had  changed  to  one  of 
astonishment  as  he  watched  the  two  intruders  upon  his 
quietness. 

As  soon  as  Jake  had  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  saw 
who  it  was  who  had  caused  the  disaster,  he  rushed 
straight  toward  the  motionless  youth. 

"Ye  good  fer  nothin'  thing!"  he  roared,  "111  teach 
ye  to  be  layin '  round  here  at  night.  Take  that,  ye  goat ! ' ' 
and  he  administered  a  sound  box  upon  the  youth's  ear. 

The  lad  gave  vent  to  a  howl  of  pain,  and  tried  to  get 
\  but  Jake  held  him  in  a  firm  grip  and  was  about 
to  repeat  the  blow  when  Douglas  interfered. 

"Here,  let  up  on  that,"  he  ordered,  at  the  same  time 
laying  a  firm  hand  upon  Jake's  arm. 


54  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"But  he  deserves  to  be  thumped,"  the  latter  insisted. 
"He's  Empty  in  name  and  empty  in  head,  that's  what 
he  is.  What  business  has  he  to  be  sleepin'  behind  this 
tree?" 

"He  has  as  much  business  to  be  here  as  we  have," 
Douglas  defended,  "and  don't  you  dare  to  touch  him 
again.  Take  your  hands  off  him,  or  you'll  go  down 
quicker  than  you  did  up  by  the  barn." 

The  memory  of  his  recent  defeat  was  so  fresh  in 
Jake's  mind  that  reluctantly  he  relinquished  his  hold 
upon  the  youth's  arm. 

"I'll  let  ye  off  this  time,"  he  growled,  "but  don't 
let  me  ever  catch  ye  hangin'  around  this  place  agin." 

1 '  I  wasn  't  doin '  nuthin ', ' '  the  lad  protested,  speaking 
for  the  first  time. 

"Ye've  been  up  to  some  mischief,''    Jake  charged. 

"No,  I  haven't." 

1 '  What  have  ye  been  doin ',  then  1 ' ' 

"Fishin';  that's  what  I've  been  doin',  and  I  came 
here  to  git  a  little  sleep." 

" Where's  yer  net?" 

"Out  there,"  and  the  lad  pointed  with  his  finger 
across  the  water.    "Didn't  ye  know  I  was  fishin'?" 

"Naw,  never  heard  of  ye  workin'  before.  Ho,  ho, 
that's  a  good  one!  To  think  of  Empty  Dempster 
workin ' !    What 's  goin '  to  happen ! ' ' 

At  that  instant  the  blast  of  a  tin  horn  fell  upon  their 
ears,  which  caused  Jake  to  start  and  look  across  the 
field. 

"Great  punkins!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  Susie,  an*  I 
f ergot  all  about  them  cows ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  VI 

DOWN  BY   THE   RIVER 

THE  neglected  cattle  had  been  having  a  fine  time 
roving  at  will  wherever  their  fancy  led.  They 
had  left  the  uninviting  rectory  grounds  and  were  rev- 
elling in  their  master's  turnip  patch  when  discovered 
by  Mrs.  Jukes.  When  the  men  at  last  arrived  and  dis- 
lodged them  from  this  delectable  spot,  they  scampered 
across  the  fields,  trampling  through  the  young  corn  and 
potato  patch  until  they  reached  the  peas,  beets  and  car- 
rots, where  they  stopped  for  another  feast.  Jake  was 
almost  in  despair.  He  shouted  frantically,  waved  his 
arms,  and  hurled  stones  at  his  wayward  herd.  It  was 
only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  the  cattle  were  at 
last  rounded  up  in  the  barn-yard,  and  the  gate  closed. 

Mrs.  Jukes  had  taken  an  important  part  in  this  affair, 
and  now  stood  facing  her  crestfallen  husband,  with  her 
ablaze  with  anger.  The  presence  of  the  stranger 
did  not  deter  her  in  the  least. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  she  demanded.  "Breakfast 
has  been  ready  for  half  an  hour,  and  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  me,  the  cows  would  have  eaten  everything  up  on 
the  place.     Were  you  asleep?" 

"I — I  was  gettin'  a  man  to  help  with  the  work," 
Jake  stammered.    "He's  here  now." 

"H'm,"  and  Mrs.  Jukes  tossed  her  head.  "I  guess 
55 


56  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

there  wouldn't  have  been  any  need  for  a  man  to  help 
with  the  work  if  the  cows  had  been  left  much  longer. 
Where  did  you  come  from,  Empty?"  and  she  turned 
toward  the  youth  standing  near  Douglas. 

"I  was  fishin',"  the  lad  replied. 

1 '  Had  your  breakfast  yet  ? " 

"Naw." 

'  'Well,  come  in,  then,  and  have  a  bite.  You've  earned 
it  all  right  this  morning.  Bring  your  help  in,  Jake.  I 
guess  there's  enough  for  all." 

Mrs.  Jukes'  anger  soon  passed,  and  by  the  time  they 
reached  the  house  she  was  in  a  more  pleasant  frame  of 
mind.  She  was  a  bright,  active  little  body,  and  Douglas 
won  her  friendship  at  once  by  the  interest  he  took  in 
her  two  children,  a  girl  of  six  and  a  boy  of  three.  While 
Mrs.  Jukes  was  busy  placing  the  breakfast  upon  the 
table,  Douglas  had  the  children  on  his  knees,  and  was 
asking  them  their  names  and  quizzing  them  about  the 
things  in  which  they  were  interested.  Though  very  busy, 
Mrs.  Jukes  noticed  this,  and  she  felt  greatly  pleased  at 
the  attention  the  stranger  paid  to  her  offspring.  She 
noted,  as  well,  his  refined  face,  his  gentle  manner,  and 
the  words  he  used,  for  Mrs.  Jukes  had  been  a  school 
teacher  before  she  married,  and,  according  to  her  hus- 
band, she  had  "a  great  deal  of  larnin'."  She  knew 
enough,  at  least,  to  keep  Jake  in  his  place,  and  to  make 
him  attend  strictly  to  his  work,  with  the  result  that 
their  farm  was  the  best  cultivated  one  in  the  commu- 
nity. 

"You  sit  here,  sir,"  she  told  Douglas,  putting  a  chair 
in  place.  "I'm  sorry  there  isn't  more  for  breakfast. 
I  didn't  expect  company  this  morning." 

"Why,  this  is  a  meal  fit  for  a  king,"  Douglas  re- 


DOWN  BY  THE  RIVER  57 

plied.  "It's  been  years  since  I've  eaten  pancakes,  ham 
and  gravy.  And  that  bread  looks  good,  too.  Did  you 
bake  it  yourself,  Mrs.  Jukes?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do  all  my  own  cooking.  But  that  bread 
isn't  as  good  as  I  generally  make.  We  just  opened  a 
new  barrel  of  flour,  and  it  doesn't  seem  to  be  as  good 
as  the  last  we  had." 

"It's  no  wonder  that  you  are  the  best  wrestler  in 
the  parish,"  Douglas  remarked  to  Jake. 

"Why?"  the  farmer  asked,  with  his  mouth  full  of 
pancake. 

"Because  of  what  you  eat.  Wouldn't  any  one  be 
strong  with  such  food  as  this?" 

* '  But  you  put  me  down,  though, ' '  Jake  acknowledged, 
"an'  you  haven't  been  eatin'  sich  grub." 

"Ah,  it  wasn't  my  strength,  remember.  It  was  sim- 
ply a  little  trick  I  learned  years  ago." 

"Will  ye  lam  me  the  trick?"  Jake  asked.  "I'd  like 
to  try  it  on  Joe  Preston  the  next  time  we  have  a  bout 
together.     My,  it  would  surprise  him." 

"What,  were  you  two  wrestling  this  morning?"  Mrs. 
Jukes  enquired. 

"Yep,  an'  he  put  me  down,"  her  husband  explained. 
"Ye  should  have  seen  the  way  he  did  it,  Susie.  I  struck 
the  ground  kerflop,  right  on  my  shoulders,  an'  they  are 
sore  yit  from  the  thump." 

No  one  noticed  the  look  of  wonder  mingled  with  ad- 
miration upon  Empty's  face  as  Jake  uttered  these  words. 
He  forgot  to  eat,  as  he  watched  Douglas  across  the  table, 
one  who  could  put  down  the  champion  of  Rixton 
was  a  marvel  in  Empty's  eyes,  and  worthy  of  more  than 
a   passing   notice.      He    had    not    forgotten    how   this 


58  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

stranger  had  taken  his  part  down  by  the  big  elm,  and 
would  not  let  Jake  hit  him  the  second  time. 

Mrs.  Jukes  was  almost  as  much  surprised  as  Empty. 
Though  she  could  handle  her  husband  and  make  him 
do  what  she  wished,  she,  nevertheless,  had  a  great  ad- 
miration for  his  prowess  as  a  wrestler,  and  was  proud 
of  his  standing  in  the  community.  It  was  his  local 
renown  which  had  appealed  to  her  when  she  was  teach- 
ing school  in  Rixton,  and  had  enabled  Jake  to  capture 
her  from  his  rivals,  for  Susie  Perkins  had  been  greatly 
admired  and  sought  after  by  the  young  men  of  the 
place. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  farm  work?"  she 
asked. 

"I  was  brought  up  on  a  farm,  and  should  know  some- 
thing about  it,"  Douglas  replied. 

"But  you  haven't  done  any  hard  work  of  late,  have 
you?" 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Oh,  I  can  tell  by  your  hands.  They  are  not  hard 
and  rough  like  Jake's,  for  instance,  and  your  face  is 
not  burnt  as  if  you  had  been  out  working  in  the  sun. ' ' 

Douglas  smiled,  and  held  up  his  hands  for  inspection. 

"Please  do  not  judge  by  these,"  he  replied,  "but 
rather  by  my  brain,  heart  and  feet.  They  are  all  pretty 
well  worn.  A  week  or  so  in  the  field  will  remedy  the 
defects  of  my  face  and  hands,  and  make  them  more  like 
your  husband's." 

"I'm  goin'  to  try  ye  out  fer  a  week,"  Jake  remarked, 
"an'  if  ye  understand  hayin'  as  well  as  ye  do  wrestlin' 
ye 're  the  man  fer  me." 

"Just  for  my  board  and  lodging,"  Douglas  added. 

"Well,  that's  fer  you  to  say." 


DOWN  BY  THE  RIVER  59 

"I  prefer  it  that  way." 

"It's  settled,  then,"  and  Jake  pushed  back  his  chair 
and  rose  from  the  table.  ' '  We  must  do  the  milkin ',  and 
then  git  into  the  field.  There's  a  heap  of  hay  to  come 
in  to-day,  an '  we  can 't  dilly-dally. ' ' 

Douglas  soon  proved  that  he  was  no  novice  at  farm 
work,  and  he  won  Jake 's  approval  by  the  quick  and  effi- 
cient way  he  was  able  to  milk.  But  it  was  when  once 
out  in  the  field  he  showed  what  he  could  do.  Though 
not  hardened  to  the  work,  he  exhibited  his  knowledge 
of  mowing  with  the  scythe  or  the  machine,  as  well  as 
raking  and  putting  up  the  hay  in  bunches  ready  to  be 
hauled  in  that  afternoon. 

It  was  a  bright,  beautiful  day,  and  Douglas  found  it 
good  to  be  out  there  in  the  open  instead  of  being  shut 
up  in  the  crowded  city.  He  was  almost  like  a  boy  in 
his  joy  and  enthusiasm.  Everything  appealed  to  him 
and  brought  back  memories  of  other  days ;  the  fragrant 
scent  of  the  new-mown  hay,  the  zig-zagging  butterflies, 
and  the  birds  darting  here  and  there.  Though  the  day 
was  hot  and  the  perspiration  at  times  stood  out  in  beads 
on  his  forehead,  yet  he  was  more  contented  than  he  had 
been  for  a  long  time.  "Why  did  I  ever  leave  the  coun- 
try?" he  asked  himself.  "What  life  so  free  and  happy 
as  this?"  Then  the  thoughts  which  had  entered  his 
mind  the  night  before  came  to  him  once  again.  "Would 
it  not  be  better  to  live  in  God's  open,  and  rove  at  will?" 
he  mused.  "Why  should  I  be  a  slave  any  longer,  and 
conform  to  a  dry  ecclesiastical  system  ?  Better  to  follow 
nature  and  the  dictates  of  my  own  heart.  What  is  the 
use  of  striving  to  help  others  when  they  do  not  wish  to 
be  helped?" 

He  found  Jake  a  capital  companion.     He  was  not  a 


60  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

driver,  but  an  encourager,  and  when  once  he  saw  that 
a  man  was  doing  his  best,  he  was  satisfied. 

"Ye 're  all  right,"  he  told  Douglas  that  evening  after 
the  chores  had  been  done,  and  they  were  resting  for  a 
while  on  a  log  near  the  house.  "I  suppose  ye  feel  a 
little  sore?" 

"Not  yet,"  Douglas  replied,  "but  I  expect  to  be 
rather  stiff  in  the  morning  after  to-day's  work.  It  will 
take  me  a  little  while  to  get  hardened  up,  and  then  I  'm 
going  to  have  a  wrestling  bout  with  you.  My,  how 
calm  the  water  is  to-night, ' '  and  he  turned  his  eyes  upon 
the  peaceful  river  away  to  the  left.  "I'm  going  down 
to  have  a  swim.  The  last  one  I  had  was  in  the  har- 
bour." 

"In  the  harbour!"  Jake  exclaimed  in  amazement. 
"What  in  the  world  were  ye  swimmin'  there  fer?" 

"Oh,  I'll  tell  you  some  day  when  I've  got  nothing  else 
to  do.    Where's  the  best  place  for  a  swim?" 

"Most  anywhere,  but  ye '11  find  the  water  extry  good 
down  by  that  old  pine  tree,"  and  Jake  pointed  away 
to  the  left.     "There  are  no  weeds  there." 

It  took  Douglas  but  a  few  minutes  to  reach  the  river, 
and  he  walked  slowly  along  the  shore.  Not  a  ripple 
disturbed  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  the  trees  along 
the  bank  were  mirrored  in  the  clear  depths.  How  good 
it  was  to  be  in  such  a  place  where  he  could  think  to  his 
heart's  content.  No  sign  of  human  life  was  here,  and 
the  sweet  song  of  a  vesper  sparrow  was  the  only  sound 
which  broke  the  stillness  of  the  evening.  So  far,  he 
had  not  found  Rixton  to  be  the  terrible  place  it  had 
been  painted,  and  he  was  beginning  to  think  that  what 
he  had  heard  was  mere  legend.    He  had  found  the  Jukes 


DOWN  BY  THE  RIVER  61 

very  agreeable  people,  at  any  rate,  and  he  believed  that 
his  stay  with  them  would  be  most  pleasant. 

Having  reached  the  old  pine,  he  sat  down  upon  the 
sand  and  bent  forward  to  unlace  his  shoes.  His  atten- 
tion, however,  was  suddenly  arrested  by  the  sound  of 
violin  music  to  his  left.  That  it  was  no  amateur  who 
was  playing  he  was  well  aware,  but  one  skilled  in  the 
art.  At  any  time  such  music  would  have  appealed  to 
him,  but  on  an  evening  like  this,  and  amid  such  sur- 
soundings,  the  effect  was  greatly  enhanced.  For  a  few 
minutes  he  sat  and  listened,  afraid  to  move  lest  the 
charm  should  be  dispelled.  The  music  thrilled  his  soul 
with  a  peculiar  feeling  of  responsibility.  It  seemed  like 
a  passionate  cry  for  help,  mingled  with  a  desire  for  sym- 
pathy and  understanding.  It  was  quite  evident  that 
the  unknown  minstrel  had  suffered,  and  was  pouring 
forth  upon  the  still  evening  air  the  deep  emotions  of 
the  heart.  Others  might  hear  differently,  but  there  was 
one  interpretation  he  could  give  to  the  enchanting 
sound. 

Presently  there  came  to  him  a  desire  to  see  this  skilled 
musician.  He  was  beginning  to  realise  that  Rixton,  no 
matter  what  others  might  say,  was  becoming  a  most 
interesting  place.  To  encounter  in  one  day  a  wrestler 
like  Jake  Jukes,  and  a  violinist  such  as  he  was  now 
hearing,  made  his  coming  to  the  parish  really  worth 
while. 

Looking  along  the  shore  from  whence  the  music  came, 
Douglas  could  see  nothing  but  trees.  Stepping  back, 
however,  a  few  paces,  he  obtained  a  better  view,  and 
beheld  not  far  away  three  persons  near  a  large  tree 
h  was  bending  over  the  water.  One  was  an  old  man 
seated  upon  the  ground,  with  a  young  girl  by  his  side. 


62  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

He  could  not  distinguish  their  faces,  but  they  were  evi- 
dently listening  with  rapt  attention  to  a  young  woman 
who  was  standing  nearby  playing  upon  a  violin.  Doug- 
las noted  with  admiration  her  lithe  form,  and  the  grace- 
ful poise  of  her  head.  So  the  musician  was  a  woman !  It 
came  to  him  as  a  surprise,  for  in  his  mind  he  had  pic- 
tured a  man  alone  on  the  shore,  giving  expression  to 
his  feelings.  He  longed  to  draw  nearer,  that  he  might 
see  her  better  and  look  into  her  eyes.  A  soul  and  a 
hand  that  could  produce  such  music  could  belong  only 
to  a  person  of  more  than  ordinary  beauty,  so  he  imag- 
ined. But  he  knew  that  if  he  ventured  forth  the  charm 
would  be  broken,  and  he  would  be  looked  upon  as  an 
intruder.  No,  it  was  better  for  him  to  remain  where 
he  was  that  he  might  listen  and  adore  unseen. 

As  he  stood  there  and  watched,  the  music  suddenly 
ceased.  He  saw  the  girl  sitting  on  the  ground  rise  to  her 
feet,  take  the  old  man  by  the  hand,  and  lead  him  away. 
The  musician  alone  remained,  and  with  the  violin  under 
her  arm  she  leaned  against  the  tree.  Was  she  tired? 
Douglas  wondered.  Why  did  she  not  go  with  the  others  ? 
He  was  not  left  long  in  doubt,  however,  for  in  a  few 
minutes  a  man  emerged  from  among  the  trees  and  ap- 
proached the  waiting  woman.  Ah,  she  had  remained  to 
meet  her  lover,  and  no  doubt  her  music  had  been  meant 
for  him.  Perhaps  he  had  been  near  at  hand  all  the 
time,  waiting  a  favourable  opportunity  to  speak  to  her. 
Was  the  old  man  her  father  who  objected  to  her  lover? 
And  was  the  young  girl  her  sister  who  was  in  league 
with  her?  These  thoughts  passed  through  Douglas' 
mind  as  he  stood  there.  It  did  not  seem  right  that  he 
should  be  watching  these  two,  and  yet  there  was  some- 
thing which  restrained  him  from  going  away  at  once. 


DOWN  BY  THE  RIVER  63 

They  did  not  seem  altogether  like  lovers,  for  the  young 
woman  had  stepped  back  as  the  man  drew  near,  and 
kept  retreating  slightly  whenever  he  approached  too 
close.  i 

Douglas  could  not  hear  a  word  that  was  being  said, 
but  the  strange  manner  of  the  two  interested  him  greatly. 
It  was  evident  that  they  were  engaged  in  an  earnest 
conversation,  though  the  man  seemed  to  be  doing  most 
of  the  talking. 

For  some  time  the  two  stood  near  the  old  tree,  while 
the  shades  of  night  deepened  over  the  land.  At  length, 
they  moved  away,  walking  side  by  side,  and  soon  dis- 
appeared among  the  trees.  Douglas'  interest  was  much 
aroused  and  he  felt  that  there  was  some  mystery  con- 
nected with  what  he  had  witnessed.  He  longed  to  know 
something  about  the  violinist,  where  she  had  learned  to 
play  in  such  a  remarkable  manner,  and  the  reason  of 
the  strange  compelling  music. 

Lost  in  such  thoughts,  he  forgot  all  about  his  intended 
swim.  He  left  the  old  pine  tree  and  slowly  retraced 
his  steps  along  the  shore.  It  was  dark  by  the  time  he 
reached  the  house.  He  felt  tired  after  his  day's  work, 
and  was  glad  to  go  at  once  to  the  little  bedroom  which 
Mrs.  Jukes  had  prepared  for  his  use. 


CHAPTER  VII 


MENDING   TniNGS 


WEARY  though  he  was,  Douglas  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  get  to  sleep.  He  thought  over  the 
various  events  of  the  day,  and  was  not  altogether  dis- 
satisfied with  the  results.  He  had  made  a  beginning, 
anyway,  and  he  hoped  that  events  would  so  shape  them- 
selves that  he  might  soon  be  able  to  get  to  the  heart  of 
the  Church  trouble,  whatever  it  might  be.  He  had  not 
yet  spoken  to  Jake  about  the  matter,  thinking  it  best 
to  wait  for  a  day  or  two,  or  until  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity should  occur. 

Then  the  music  he  had  heard  down  by  the  river  kept 
running  through  his  mind,  and,  try  as  he  might,  he 
could  not  silence  the  sound.  He  saw  again  that  slight, 
graceful  figure  standing  near  the  tree,  drawing  the  bow 
skilfully  across  the  strings  of  the  violin.  Where  had  she 
learned  to  play  in  such  a  manner?  he  asked  himself. 
He  was  surprised  that  Rixton  could  produce  such 
a  musician.  Was  she  engaged  to  that  young  man?  he 
wondered,  and,  if  so,  what  was  the  cause  of  her  strange 
behaviour  when  they  met?  It  was  late  when  he  at  last 
fell  asleep,  and  he  dreamed  of  a  herd  of  wild  cattle 
chasing  a  beautiful  woman  through  a  big  field,  while 
he  and  Jake  were  unable  to  go  to  her  assistance. 

When  he  awoke  in  the  morning  the  rain  was  pelting 
down  upon  the  roof  overhead.     The  sound  filled  him 

64 


MENDING  THINGS  65 

i 

with  a  sense  of  deep  satisfaction  and  brought  back 
childhood  days  when  he  had  listened  to  the  same  music 
in  the  little  room  in  his  old  home.  He  was  glad  that 
it  was  raining,  as  he  was  feeling  sore  after  yesterday's 
work,  and  he  longed  for  a  little  rest  from  the  labour 
of  the  hay  field.  Early  though  it  was,  Jake  was  already 
astir.  He  heard  him  making  the  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove, 
then  the  rattle  of  milk  pails,  and  the  bang  of  the  door 
as  he  left  for  the  barn.  Douglas  tumbled  out  of  bed, 
dressed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  at  the  stable. 

"What!  You  here?"  Jake  asked  in  surprise,  as  he 
paused  in  the  act  of  picking  up  a  milking-stool. 

"Certainly,  and  why  not?"  Douglas  replied. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  expect  ye  to  be  up  so  early,  that's 
all.  All  the  hired  men  I've  ever  had  waited  to  be 
called." 

"Why  didn't  you  call  me?" 

"Thought  I'd  let  ye  sleep,  as  ye  had  a  hard  day  of 
it  yesterday.  And,  besides,  it's  rainin',  so  we  can't 
do  much  to-day." 

"Rain  or  no  rain,  tired  or  not  tired,  I  am  going  to 
do  my  share  while  I'm  here,"  Douglas  quietly  remarked, 
as  he  picked  up  a  pail  and  a  stool.  "I  don't  want  you 
to  favour  me  in  the  least,  though  I  appreciate  your 
thoughtfulness. ' ' 

After  breakfast,  Jake  and  Douglas  went  out  into  the 
woodhouse  to  grind  a  scythe  and  a  cutter-bar. 

"We  might  as  well  git  them  done  while  it's  rainin'," 
Jake  had  said,  "an'  there's  nuthin'  else  we  kin  do  this 
morn  in'." 

Douglas  turned  the  stone  while  Jake  did  the  grind- 
Be  was  not  new  to  the  job,  as  he  had  often  done 
it  as  a  boy.     Then,  it  had  been  a  wearisome  task,  and 


,66  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Jit  seemed  to  him  that  the  hired  man  always  pressed 
as  hard  as  he  could  upon  the  stone.  But  now  he  en- 
joyed the  task,  as  it  was  a  change  from  the  pitching  of 
hay. 

"Have  you  many  near  neighbours?"  he  presently 
asked. 

"Yes,  a  few,"  was  the  reply.     "Sandy  Barker  lives 
below  me,  and  Caleb  Titus  jist  above.    Of  course,  there's 
the  corner  with  a  whole  bunch  of  houses.     It's  pretty 
well  settled  all  along  the  river." 
i     ' '  Has  Caleb  Titus  much  of  a  family  f ' ' 

"Naw.     Jist  himself  an'  one  daughter,  Polly." 

"Has  he  a  large  farm?" 

"Not  overly  large;  though  he  doesn't  attend  to  it. 
He  works  in  the  woods  in  the  winter  time,  an '  scratches 
the  ground  a  little  in  the  spring,  an'  tries  to  raise  some- 
thing, though  he  doesn't  succeed  very  well.  He  sold  a 
piece  off  the  front  of  his  place  a  few  years  ago  to  old 
Andy  Strong,  an'  got  a  good  price  for  it,  so  I  heard." 

"Who  is  this  man  Strong?"  Douglas  enquired. 

Jake  lifted  the  scythe  from  the  stone  and  felt  its 
edge  very  carefully  with  his  thumb  before  answering. 
He  seemed  to  be  pondering  something,  and  a  peculiar 
smile  lurked  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
1  "I  can't  jist  tell  ye  who  he  is,"  he  eventually  re- 
plied. "He  came  off  an'  on  to  Rixton  fer  several  years 
until  at  last  he  settled  down  here  for  good  with  his 
daughters." 

1 '  How  many  has  he  ? " 

"Two;  Nell  an'  Nan.  My,  they're  beauties,  an*  the 
young  fellers  in  the  whole  parish  are  about  crazy  over 
them,  especially  Nell.  She's  a  wonder,  an'  looks  after 
.everything,  the  old  man  included." 


MENDING  THINGS  67 

"What's  wrong  with  him?" 

"Oh,  he's  blind  as  a  bat,  an'  as  queer  a  critter  as  ye 
ever  sot  eyes  on." 

"In  what  way?" 

"Well,  he's  an  unbeliever,  an'  has  a  great  deal  to 
say  about  churches,  'ligion,  an'  parsons.  He's  down 
on  'em  all.  The  young  fellers  hereabouts  git  him  to 
talk  to  them,  an'  make  believe  they  are  mighty  inter- 
ested in  his  views.  That  is  only  their  excuse  fer  vis- 
itin'  the  place,  so's  they  kin  meet  Nell  an'  Nan.  Ho, 
ho!  it's  a  great  joke.  The  old  boy  thinks  they're  lis- 
tenin'  to  him,  but  they  don't  remember  a  word  he 
says. ' ' 

"Do  his  daughters  favour  any  of  them?" 

"Not  as  fer  as  I  know.  They  are  mighty  sensible 
girls,  an'  put  up  with  the  young  fellers  eomin'  to  their 
place  because  it  pleases  their  dad.  He  likes  to  express 
his  views,  an'  they  know  it." 

"Why  is  Mr.  Strong  so  much  down  on  churches,  re- 
ligion and  parsons?"  Douglas  asked. 

"I  can't  tell  ye  that.  He's  got  a  grouch  of  some 
kind,  though  I  never  heard  him  say  what  it  is." 

"Did  he  ever  go  to  church?" 

"Not  him,  though  I've  seen  his  daughters  there.  Nell 
has  played  the  organ  at  times,  fer  she 's  mighty  musical. 
My.  ye  should  hear  her  play  the  fiddle!  She  makes 
it  fairly  talk." 

"Where  did  she  learn  to  play  so  well?" 

"From  her  dad.  He  was  a  perfessor,  or  something 
like  that  years  ago,  though  his  playin'  is  pretty  shaky 
now. ' ' 

Douglas  asked  no  more  questions  just  then,  but 
went  on  with  his  work,  and  meditated  upon  what  he 


68  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

had  heard.  Perhaps  this  old  man  Strong  was  really 
the  cause  of  much  of  the  Church  trouble  in  the  parish. 
Jake  might  be  wrong  in  his  opinion  about  the  young 
men,  and  they  may  have  been  greatly  influenced  by  the 
words  of  the  blind  professor.  He  longed  to  see  Strong 
that  he  might  hear  what  he  had  to  say,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  meet  his  daughters.  How  he  was  going  to  do 
this,  he  had  not  the  least  idea,  though  he  somehow  felt 
that  he  would  have  to  wrestle  with  the  unbeliever  if 
he  intended  to  make  any  headway  in  Rixton.  He  had 
won  his  first  step  in  the  parish  as  a  wrestler,  but  to 
contend  against  firmly  rooted  opinions  was  a  far  more 
difficult  undertaking.  It  would  be  all  the  harder  if 
he  should  find  Strong  a  stubborn,  narrow-minded  per- 
son, unreasonable,  and  firmly-settled  in  his  views. 

When  dinner  was  over,  Jake  asked  Douglas  if  he 
would  go  to  the  shoe-maker's  for  him. 

"Two  of  the  traces  broke  on  me  the  other  day,"  he 
explained,  "an'  I  haven't  had  time  to  git  them  fixed. 
Ye '11  find  Joe  Benton's  place  jist  beyond  the  store." 

"Shall  I  wait  until  they  are  mended?"  Douglas  asked. 

"Yes,  if  ye  want  to,  an'  if  Joe's  able  to  do  them  to- 
day. I  think  he'll  do  'em  all  right,  providin'  he  doesn't 
git  side-tracked  on  his  hobby. ' ' 

"What's  that?" 

"It's  'ligion,  that's  what  'tis.  He's  great  on  the  Bible 
an'  Church  history.  He  holds  service  every  Sunday  in 
his  house,  since  we've  had  no  parson." 

"Do  many  attend?" 

"Naw.  Jist  him  an'  his  wife,  I  guess.  But  Joe's 
a  good,  honest  feller,  an'  ye '11  like  him.  But  fer  pity's 
sake,  keep  him  off  of  'ligion,  if  ye  expect  to  bring  them 
traces  back  with  ye  to-day. ' ' 


MENDING  THINGS  69 

Douglas  had  no  trouble  in  locating  the  shoe-maker's 
shop,  where  he  found  Joe  Benton  busy  half-soleing  a 
pair  of  men's  boots.  He  was  a  man  past  sixty,  grey- 
haired,  and  with  a  smooth-shaven  face.  His  eyes  were 
what  arrested  Douglas'  attention.  They  were  honest 
eyes,  which  looked  clear  and  straight  into  his.  There 
the  old  man's  soul  seemed  to  be  shining  forth,  so  ex- 
pressive were  they.  Douglas  thought  he  could  read  in 
those  clear  depths  an  unattainable  longing,  mingled 
with  an  appealing  pathos.  When  he  smiled,  his  whole 
face  was  lighted  with  a  remarkable  glory,  and  he  ap- 
peared no  longer  a  humble  shoe-maker,  but  an  un- 
crowned king.  His  rude  bench  was  his  throne,  and  the 
humble  shop  his  royal  palace.  So  it  appeared  to  Doug- 
las, and  he  wondered  if  others  were  affected  in  the  same 
way. 

''Are  you  Jake  Juke's  hired  man,  the  wrestler?" 
the  shoe-maker  asked,  after  Douglas  had  told  him  the 
purpose  of  his  visit. 

"Yes,  that's  who  I  am,"  was  the  reply.  "But  how 
in  the  world  did  you  hear  about  our  wrestling  match?" 

"Oh,  news  travels  fast  in  Rixton,  especially  if  Empty 
Dempster  is  the  carrier." 

Douglas  sat  down  upon  a  bench  and  observed  Joe  in- 
tently, as  he  gave  the  final  touch  to  a  shoe  in  his  lap. 
Many  years  had  passed  since  he  had  watched  such  work, 
and  he  recalled  the  old  shoe-maker  he  used  to  know 
when  a  lad. 

"Can  you  fix  the  traces  to-day?"  he  enquired.  "If 
so,  I  might  as  well  wait  for  them." 

"Yes,  I'll  mend  them  at  once,"  and  Joe  put  the  fin- 
ished shoe  carefully  down  by  its  mate.  "  I  'm  not  rushed 
this  afternoon." 


70  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"You  are  kept  busy  as  a  rule,  I  suppose ?" 

"Yes,  always  mending  something.  I  have  been  doing 
it  for  over  thirty  years  now,  and  there  is  never  any 
let-up/ ' 

"You  must  get  very  tired  of  it  at  times." 

"No,  I  can't  say  I  do.  It  gives  me  plenty  of  time 
to  think  as  I  sit  here  alone  in  my  little  shop.  I  often 
wish  that  I  could  mend  everything  in  life  as  easily  as 
I  can  a  pair  of  shoes." 

"Why,  do  you  find  things  out  of  joint?"  Douglas 
queried.  "You  haven't  seen  much  of  the  world,  I 
suppose  ? ' ' 

1 '  I  don 't  have  to  travel  to  see  the  world,  sir, ' '  and  Joe 
paused  in  his  work  and  looked  earnestlfiy  into  his  vis- 
itor's face.  "I  can  see  the  world  right  in  this  parish; 
that  is,  as  much  as  I  want  to  see  of  it. ' ' 

"And  you  think  there  are  many  things  here  which 
need  to  be  mended?" 

1  i  I  certainly  do.  My  heart  is  heavy  all  the  time  over 
the  sad  condition  of  this  parish.  The  church  is  closed ; 
the  bell  is  never  rung;  and  the  rectory  is  falling  into 
decay.  But  they  are  merely  outward  signs  of  the  real 
state  of  the  community.  The  people  do  not  worship 
any  more,  and  the  children  never  go  to  Sunday  school. 
With  this  spiritual  sloth  has  come  a  great  moral  de- 
cline, and  there  are  all  kinds  of  sins  and  evil  things 
committed  of  which  we,  as  a  rule,  were  free  years  ago. ' * 

"What  is  the  cause  of  all  this?"  Douglas  enquired. 

"There  are  various  reasons.  The  most  important, 
I  suppose,  is  the  lack  of  the  right  kind  of  a  clergyman, 
who  would  understand  the  people,  and  be  a  real  leader. 
If  he  could  win  the  sympathy  of  the  majority  in  this 
parish,  the  rest  might  be  overcome." 


MENDING  THINGS  71 

"But  didn't  you  have  good  men  in  the  past?"  -i] 

"Ob,  yes,  we've  always  had  good  men  in  a  way.  But 
of  late  years  the  ones  we  had,  as  I  said,  didn't  under- 
stand the  people,  and  as  far  as  I  could  see  didn't  try. 
They  knew  nothing  about  the  country  ways,  and  con- 
sidered themselves  above  their  people.  They  were  al- 
ways looking  for  some  better  field,  and  made  no  bones 
of  saying  so.     They  used  no  tact  at  all." 

"But  didn't  the  people  try  to  help  and  encourage 
them  ? ' '  Douglas  asked.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  that 
Joe  was  looking  all  on  one  side. 

"Most  of  the  people  did  at  first,  sir,  and  I  think  that 
things  would  have  come  around  all  right  if  they  had 
been  let  alone."  Joe  paused  and  examined  the  stitches 
he  had  just  put  in  the  trace.  "But,"  he  continued, 
"there's  an  influence  in  this  parish  which  has  to  be 
reckoned  with.  I'm  not  going  to  say  what  it  is,  but  if 
you  stay  here  long  enough  you'll  soon  find  out  for 
yourself. ' ' 

"And  that  influence,  whatever  it  is,  would  make  it 
hard,  then,  for  any  clergyman  to  work  here?  Is  that 
what  I  gather  from  your  words?" 

"That's  just  it." 

Douglas  longed  to  know  what  this  influence  really 
was,  but  he  felt  it  would  be  better  not  to  enquire  fur- 
ther just  then.  No  doubt  the  shoe-maker  had  some 
good  reason  for  not  telling  what  he  knew.  The  only 
thing,  therefore,  was  for  him  to  find  out  for  himself. 

"You  must  miss  the  services  of  the  Church  very 
much,"  he  at  length  remarked. 

"I  do,  I  certainly  do,"  Joe  emphatically  replied. 
"Though  I  have  service  in  my  own  house  every  Sunday 


72  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

morning,  yet  it  doesn't  seem  just  the  same  as  in  the 
House  of  God." 

"Do  any  of  the  neigh  ours  come?" 

"Not  one,  though  I've  often  invited  them.  My  wife 
and  I  are  the  only  two  since  Jean  left  us." 

"Is  she  your  daughter?" 

"Yes,  the  youngest,  and  the  last  of  the  girls  to  go 
from  home.  We  always  had  a  hymn  or  two  when  she 
was  here,  for  Jean  had  a  fine  voice."  A  far-away  look 
came  into  the  old  man's  eyes  as  he  uttered  these  words. 
There  was  a  gleam  of  pride,  as  well,  showing  how  much 
he  thought  of  this  daughter. 

"Where  is  she  now?"  Douglas  asked. 

"She's  in  the  city.  She's  been  in  the  hospital  there 
nigh  on  to  three  years,  training  to  be  a  nurse.  We're 
looking  for  her  home  now  any  day.  I  hope  you'll  meet 
her,  sir,  for  my  Jean  is  a  comely  girl,  and  as  good  as 
she  is  beautiful.  We  have  been  very  lonely  without 
her.  She  always  took  such  an  interest  in  Church  mat- 
ters, and  taught  in  the  Sunday  school.  The  children 
loved  her,  and  she  did  so  much  good.  I'm  not  much 
use  in  the  place,  as  I  have  to  stay  here  all  the  time  just 
mending  things.    But,  Jean !  my,  she  was  a  power ! ' ' 

"May  I  come  to  your  service  next  Sunday?"  Doug- 
las asked  as  he  rose  to  go. 

Into  Joe's  eyes  leaped  a  look  of  pleasure. 

"Would  you  care  to  come?" 

"Indeed  I  should." 

"Can  you  sing?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Then  you're  doubly  welcome.  It  will  be  great  for 
us  to  have  a  stranger  join  in  our  simple  service." 

As  Douglas  moved  towards  the  door,  his  attention 


MENDING  THINGS  73 

was  arrested  by  a  picture  on  the  wall  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd rescuing  a  lamb  from  a  dangerous  place.  He 
looked  at  it  for  a  minute  in  silence. 

"Fine  picture,  that,"  Joe  remarked,  as  he  rose  from 
his  bench  and  came  over  to  the  young  man's  side.  "It 
means  very  much  to  me." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  Douglas  absently  replied. 

"I  was  just  like  that  lamb  there,  once,"  Joe  contin- 
ued in  a  voice  that  was  low,  yet  filled  with  emotion.  ' '  I 
was  the  wandering  sheep,  if  ever  there  was  one."  Here 
he  paused  and  gazed  intently  at  the  picture.  "I  like 
to  have  it  before  me  as  I  work.  It  tells  me  what  I  once 
was,  and  how  much  He  has  done  for  me.  It  makes 
me  both  thankful  and  careful,  and  it  gives  me  a  feel- 
ing of  sympathy  for  any  one  who  has  gone  astray." 

Douglas  walked  slowly  down  the  road,  wrapped  in 
thought.  His  conversation  with  the  old  shoe-maker  had 
done  him  a  world  of  good.  But  Joe's  little  glimpse  of 
his  past  life  was  what  affected  him  most  of  all.  How 
many  other  wandering  sheep  there  were  in  the  world, 
nay,  in  this  very  parish,  he  mused.  They  were  stray- 
ing, as  sheep  without  a  shepherd.  Some  one  must  bring 
them  back,  and  who  would  that  some  one  be? 


CHAPTER  VIII 


HOME  FOR   REPAIRS 


IT  was  Sunday  morning,  and  for  the  first  time  since 
coming  to  Rixton  Douglas  felt  discontented.  It  was 
a  most  beautiful  day,  with  not  a  ripple  ruffling  the  sur- 
face of  the  river.  A  great  peace  and  quietness  reigned 
everywhere,  and  yet  there  was  something  lacking.  He 
could  not  remember  when  he  had  awakened  to  the  Day 
of  Rest  and  found  himself  unable  to  attend  the  service 
of  his  Church.  It  did  not  seem  right,  so  he  mused,  as 
he  stood  in  front  of  the  house  looking  down  upon  the 
neglected  church,  that  he  should  not  minister  to  the 
people.  And  yet  he  realised  that  it  would  upset  all 
his  plans  if  he  attempted  such  a  thing  now. 

He  strolled  over  to  the  rectory,  and  walked  through 
the  fields.  How  he  longed  to  repair  the  building  and 
cultivate  the  land.  He  pictured  to  himself  the  vege- 
tables he  might  raise,  and  how  the  whole  place  could 
be  made  a  most  delightful  spot.  With  a  suitable  house- 
keeper, he  could  have  a  happy  home,  visiting  his  people, 
caring  for  his  garden,  and  with  some  spare  time  for 
reading  and  study. 

Hitherto,  Douglas  had  not  thought  much  about  any 
one  other  than  a  paid  house-keeper.  But  now  a  feeling 
stole  into  his  heart  that  he  would  like  to  have  some  one 
else  to  grace  the  rectory — a  wife,  who  would  make  it  a 
real  home.    Of  all  the  women  he  had  met,  he  c 

74 


HOME  FOR  REPAIRS  75 

think  of  one  he  would  care  to  marry,  or  who  in  turn 
would  wish  to  be  his  wife.  He  smiled  at  this  idea,  think- 
ing that  he  was  becoming  sentimental.  To  shake  off  the 
notion,  he  walked  rapidly  across  the  fields  toward  the 
church.  He  had  not  visited  it  before,  but  viewed  it  only 
at  a  distance.  Everything  around  the  building  spoke  of 
neglect.  The  graveyard  was  thick  with  bushes,  long  grass 
and  weeds.  He  observed  several  new-made  graves,  and 
wondered  what  clergyman  had  conducted  the  funeral 
services.  The  church  needed  painting,  and  the  roof  re- 
shingling.  He  tried  the  big  front  door,  but  found  it 
fastened.  Through  one  of  the  side  windows  he  wTas  en- 
abled to  obtain  a  partial  view  of  the  interior.  The 
ceiling  and  walls  were  stained,  and  in  places  the  plaster 
had  fallen  off  and  was  lying  on  the  floor.  The  sight  sad- 
dened him,  so  sitting  down  under  the  shade  of  a  big 
maple  tree  he  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  church.  What 
labour  and  high  ideals  had  gone  into  the  erection  of  that 
building,  he  mused,  and  how  the  whole  parish  must  have 
rejoiced  when  it  was  completed.  He  pictured  the  ani- 
mated scene  on  the  day  of  its  consecration,  and  what 
a  crowd  must  have  been  present.  He  thought,  too,  of 
the  part  it  had  taken  in  the  life  of  the  community  dur- 
ing the  long  years  it  had  been  standing  there;  of  the 
baptisms,  weddings,  and  burials,  and  how  many  had 
been  helped  by  the  services  in  this,  their  spiritual  home. 
But  now  it  was  deserted,  the  bell  rusting  overhead,  and 
the  door  securely  locked. 

For  some  time  Douglas  sat  there  thinking  of  such 
things.  Then  he  rose  and  moved  away.  He  needed  a 
brisk  walk  to  shake  off  the  feeling  of  depression  that 
had  taken  possession  of  him.  Going  home  to  the  house, 
he   found  Jake  stretched   out  comfortably  under  the 


76  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

shade  of  an  apple  tree.    Douglas  sat  down  by  his  side. 

"Been  down  to  the  church ?"  Jake  enquired. 

"Yes.  It's  pretty  well  deserted,  isn't  it?  You  must 
have  had  several  funerals  lately.  Who  attended  the 
services  1 ' ' 

"Oh,  a  parson  from  Mapledale  fer  two  of  'em,  an'  Joe 
Benton  read  the  service  over  little  Bennie  Clark." 

"You  must  feel  lost  without  any  service  in  the 
church,"  Douglas  remarked. 

"Naw,  not  a  bit,  though  I  must  say  I  did  like  to 
hear  the  bell  ring.  I  hain't  been  to  church  fer  over 
three  years." 

"Why?" 

"I  didn't  like  the  last  parson  we  had,  nor  the  style 
of  them  who  set  themselves  up  as  great  Christians." 

"What  about  Joe  Benton?" 

"Oh,  he's  all  right  as  fer  as  he's  concerned,  an'  so 
is  his  wife.  But  what  has  religion  done  fer  their  fam- 
ily, I'd  like  to  know?  Their  boys  are  all  wild,  an' 
I  've  heard  stories  about  the  girls  since  they  left  home. ' ' 

Jake  paused  and  bit  thoughtfully  at  a  blade  of  grass 
he  was  holding  in  his  hand. 

"But  it  ain't  the  Bentons  I'm  thinkm*  so  much 
about,"  he  continued.  "There  are  others.  Look  at 
Mike  Gibband,  fer  instance,  an'  him  a  churchwarden, 
too.  Why,  he  swears  like  a  trooper,  an'  would  do  a 
man  a  mean  trick  whenever  he  could.  I  could  tell  ye 
what  he  did  to  poor  widder  Stanley." 

"What  was  wrong  with  the  last  clergyman  you  had?'1 
Douglas  questioned. 

"Well,  he  was  mighty  stuck  up,  an*  thought  it  be- 
neath himself  to  soil  his  nice  white  hands  at  anything. 
You  should  have  seen  the  way  he  kept  his  barn  over 


HOME  FOR  REPAIRS  77 

there.  Why,  it  was  a  fright.  An'  as  fer  his  knowledge 
of  farmin',  he  didn't  know  a  thing,  and  as  fer  as  I 
could  see  he  didn't  want  to.  Bless  my  soul,  he  couldn't 
tell  a  bean  from  a  pea,  nor  a  carrot  from  a  turnip." 

"But  a  man  might  not  know  anything  about  such 
things  and  yet  be  a  good  clergyman,"  Douglas  rea- 
soned. 

"That's  very  true,"  and  Jake  ran  his  fingers  through 
his  hair.  "We  would  have  overlooked  sich  things  if 
he  had  been  all  right  as  a  parson.  But  he  wasn't,  fer 
he  used  no  tact,  an'  got  Si  Stubbles  down  on  him,  an' 
so  that  finished  him  as  fer  as  this  parish  is  concerned." 

"Did  all  the  people  follow  Mr.  Stubbles  in  disliking 
the  clergyman?" 

"Nearly  all  of  them." 

"Why  was  that?" 

Jake  looked  quizzically  at  his  companion  before  re- 
plying. Douglas  thought  of  Joe  Benton's  action  when 
Stubbles  had  been  mentioned,  and  his  interest  was  now 
much  aroused. 

"I  guess  ye '11  need  to  understand  this  parish  quite 
a  bit  better  before  ye  can  git  that  question  answered," 
Jake  explained.  "Ye '11  have  to  know  more  about  Si 
Stubbles,  too." 

"He  rules  things  here,  then?" 

"Should  say  he  does." 

"So  any  clergyman  who  wishes  to  get  along  in  this 
parish  must  keep  on  the  good  side  of  Mr.  Stubbles?" 

"That's  jist  it.  He  must  knuckle  down  to  him  or 
git  out." 

"But  why  do  the  people  allow  that?" 

"Allow  what?" 

"Mr.  Stubbles  to  rule  things  in  such  a  way?" 


78  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"H'm,  they  can't  help  it.  Why,  Si  Stubbles  owns 
most  of  the  people  in  this  place,  body  an'  soul.  The 
men  work  fer  him  in  the  woods  in  the  winter  time,  an' 
in  his  mill  the  rest  of  the  year.  They  git  nearly  every- 
thing at  his  store,  an'  are  generally  in  debt  to  him, 
so  that's  where  he  has  'em.  What  Si  says  goes  in  this 
parish,  an'  any  one  who  bucks  him  has  to  git  out.  Sev- 
eral tried  it  in  the  past,  but  they  didn't  stay  here  long. 
Things  got  too  hot  fer  'em.  It  pays  a  man  to  keep  on 
the  good  side  of  Si,  if  he  expects  to  hold  on  here." 

"You  must  be  independent  of  him,  though.  You 
lave  your  farm,  and  do  not  look  to  him  for  anything." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  I'm  in  his  clutches  jist  as  much  as 
the  rest  of  the  folks.  He  buys  all  of  my  stuff,  an'  I 
haul  logs  fer  him  in  the  winter.  It  means  quite  a  bit 
to  me.  An'  besides,  if  Si  should  git  down  on  me,  why 
all  the  rest  would  do  so,  too.  He's  got  us  all  in  the 
same  box." 

"So,  it's  chiefly  through  him,  then,  that  the  church 
is  closed  in  this  parish?" 

"That's  about  it." 

"But  why  doesn't  some  other  man  come,  say  a  Meth- 
odist or  Baptist  minister?  Surely  all  of  the  people 
here  do  not  belong  to  the  Church  of  England?" 

"Most  of  'em  do,  but  there's  a  sprinklin  of  Baptists 
and  Methodies,  with  here  an'  there  a  Presbyterian. 
Their  men  did  come,  an'  started  meetin's.  But  they 
didn't  stay  long  when  Si  once  got  after  'em.  He 
boasts  that  he  is  a  loyal  member  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, an'  a  church  warden,  so  he  can't  stand  any  other 
form  of   'ligion." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  Douglas  mused.  "It's  a  case  of  the  dog 
in  the  manger." 


HOME  FOR  REPAIRS  79 

"Put  it  any  way  ye  like/'  Jake  replied,  as  lie  once 
more  stretched  himself  out  on  the  grass.  "Si  Stubbles 
rules  this  place,  an'  I  guess  will  rule  it  as  long  as  he 
stays  here." 

Douglas  looked  at  his  watch  and  rose  suddenly  to  his 
feet.    It  was  later  than  he  had  imagined. 

"I'm  going  for  a  walk,"  he  said,  "and  will  not  be 
back  for  dinner." 

"Wnere  will  ye  git  anything  to  eat?"  Jake  asked. 

"Oh,  I'll  pick  up  a  bite  somewhere.  But  if  I  don't, 
I  won't  starve,  as  I  had  such  a  good  breakfast." 

Douglas  walked  rapidly  up  the  road,  for  he  wanted 
to  be  in  time  for  the  service  at  the  shoe-maker's,  and 
he  had  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  get  there.  He  saw, 
in  passing,  what  he  supposed  was  the  Stubbles'  home. 
It  was  a  large  house  with  the  grounds  well  kept,  and 
surrounded  by  fine  trees.  He  observed  several  people 
upon  the  spacious  verandah,  who  watched  him  as  he 
went  by.  He  longed  to  see  Stubbles,  that  he  might 
judge  for  himself  what  kind  of  a  man  he  was.  Per- 
haps he  was  not  such  a  terrible  person,  after  all,  and 
one  with  a  little  common  sense  and  tact  might  handle 
him  all  right. 

"When  Douglas  reached  Joe's  place,  he  was  surprised 
to  find  the  door  of  his  little  shop  partly  open.  Peer- 
ing in,  he  saw  the  old  man  in  his  accustomed  place, 
with  his  head  buried  in  his  hands.  Thinking  that  he 
might  be  sick,  Douglas  entered  and  asked  him  what 
was  the  matter.  Somewhat  startled,  Joe  lifted  his  head 
and  Douglas  was  shocked  at  the  haggard  expression 
upon  his  face,  and  the  look  of  wretched  misery  in  his 
eyes. 


80  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"What's  wrong ?"  he  asked,  laying  his  hand  upon 
the  old  man's  shoulder.     "Are  you  ill?" 

"Jean's  coming  home,"  was  the  low  reply. 

"So  you  told  me.     Isn't  that  good  news?" 

"Ah,  but  she's  coming  not  as  I  expected.  She's  com- 
ing home  for  repairs." 

"For  repairs!     I  do  not  understand." 

"Read  that,  then,"  and  Joe  handed  him  a  letter,  all 
soiled  with  tears.     "It's  from  Jean  herself." 

It  took  Douglas  hut  a  few  minutes  to  read  the  scrawl, 
and  grasp  the  meaning.  It  told  of  failure  in  the 
city,  and  that  she  was  coming  home  to  the  care  of  her 
parents.  It  was  easy  for  Douglas  to  read  between  the 
lines,  and  he  knew  that  more  was  contained  there  than 
appeared  on  the  surface. 

"She's  coming  to-morrow,"  the  old  man  moaned. 
"My  Jean  coming  home  for  repairs!"  His  body  shook 
from  the  vehemence  of  his  emotion,  and  tears  rolled 
down  his  cheeks. 

"Perhaps  she  is  only  sick,  and  needs  home  care," 
Douglas  soothed,  though  in  his  heart  he  well  knew  it 
was  worse  than  that. 

Joe  made  no  reply,  but  sat  very  still  looking  straight 
before  him.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  picture  of 
the  Good  Shepherd  saving  the  wandering  lamb.  A 
struggle  was  evidently  going  on  in  his  mind,  and  it 
seemed  that  he  needed  that  scene  to  help  him.  At  length 
he  rose  slowly  from  the  bench,  and  turned  toward  a 
door  on  the  right. 

"We  will  have  service  now,"  he  quietly  remarked. 
"We  would  consider  it  an  honour  to  have  you  join 
us." 

Douglas   followed   him   through   the  kitchen   into   a 


HOME  FOR  REPAIRS  81 

little  room  beyond,  where  Mrs.  Benton  was  sitting  rock- 
ing herself  in  a  splint-bottom  chair.  She  arose  as  they 
entered,  and  held  out  her  hand  to  the  visitor.  She  was 
a  small  woman,  dressed  in  plain  clothes.  But  Douglas 
had  eyes  only  for  her  face  which,  though  wrinkled  and 
care-worn,  bore  an  expression  of  great  sweetness,  and 
her  eyes  shone  with  loving  sympathy.  She  had  been 
weeping,  but  she  hastily  brushed  away  her  tears  with 
the  corner  of  her  apron,  as  she  bade  the  stranger  wel- 
come and  offered  him  a  chair. 

On  a  little  table  rested  two  well-worn  volumes,  a 
Bible  and  a  Prayer  Book.  Here  the  shoe-maker  took 
his  stand  and  reverently  began  to  read  the  service. 
His  voice  was  low,  though  distinct,  and  he  seemed  to 
feel  deeply  every  word  he  uttered.  Never  had  Doug- 
las been  so  impressed  by  any  service.  He  knew  how  the 
hearts  of  these  two  people  were  bleeding,  and  yet  here 
they  were  taking  their  sorrow  to  the  Master  and  lay- 
ing it  at  His  feet. 

"  Would  you  mind  reading  the  lesson  ?"  Joe  asked, 
handing  Douglas  the  opened  Bible.  "That  is  the  chap- 
ter/ '  and  he  placed  his  finger  upon  the  page.  "My 
eyes  seem  a  bit  dim  of  late." 

A  feeling  of  compunction  smote  Douglas'  heart  as 
he  took  the  Book  and  began  to  read.  What  a  deceiver 
he  was,  and  what  would  these  two  sincere  people  think 
if  they  knew  who  he  really  was?  Was  he  right  in  com- 
ing to  Rixton  in  such  a  guise  ?  he  asked  himself.  Would 
it  not  have  been  better  and  more  manly  to  have  come  in 
his  official  capacity  instead  of  as  a  spy?  But  the  thought 
of  the  failure  of  his  predecessors  somewhat  soothed  his 
troubled  conscience.  If  the  majority  of  the  people  were 
like  the  Bentons,  it  would  be  different.     There  was  a 


82  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

disease  of  some  kind  in  the  parish,  and  as  a  physician 
of  souls  he  felt  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  un- 
derstand what  it  was  before  he  could  expect  to  effect 
a  cure. 

When  the  service  was  over,  Douglas  rose  to  go. 

" Won't  you  stay  and  have  a  bite  with  us?"  Joe 
asked. 

"Please  do  stay,"  Mrs.  Benton  pleaded.  "We  are 
lonely  to-day,  and  it  is  so  nice  to  have  you  with  us." 

Knowing  that  they  were  sincere  in  their  request, 
Douglas  remained,  and  joined  them  in  their  humble  re- 
past. They  sat  and  talked  for  a  long  time  when  the 
meal  was  finished,  and  Douglas  learned  much  about 
the  history  of  the  Benton  family,  especially  Jean. 
Being  the  youngest,  and  the  last  to  leave  home,  she  was 
very  dear  to  them.  No  further  reference  was  made  to 
the  letter  they  had  received,  nor  of  her  home-coming. 
They  dwelt  upon  her  life  as  a  child,  and  the  part  she 
had  taken  in  the  Sunday  school,  and  other  Church 
work  in  the  parish.  But  it  was  quite  easy  for  Douglas 
to  see  that  their  hearts  were  almost  broken,  and  the 
pathetic  look  in  their  eyes  told  more  than  many  words 
of  the  thoughts  the  lips  could  not  express. 


CHAPTER  IX 

EVENING    GLOW 

IT  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when  Douglas 
bade  the  Bentons  good-by  and  walked  slowly  down 
the  road.  He  had  many  things  to  consider,  and  he 
wished  to  be  off  somewhere  by  himself.  His  visit  to 
the  shoe-maker's  had  been  like  a  benediction,  and  the 
wonderful  faith  he  had  witnessed  there,  combined  with 
the  words  of  brave  courage  to  which  he  had  listened, 
rebuked  his  doubts  and  fears.  He  had  been  strongly 
tempted  to  give  up  and  run  away  from  what  he  knew 
to  be  his  duty.  He  had  planned  to  live  only  for  him- 
self, and  wander  wherever  his  spirit  might  lead.  But 
now  a  longing  came  upon  him  to  stay  and  help  those 
two  old  lonely  people,  and  comfort  them  in  their  time 
of  need.  It  was  the  first  link  which  was  to  bind  him 
to  this  parish,  the  golden  link  of  divine  sympathy. 
Little  did  he  realise  that  afternoon  what  the  next  link 
would  be  in  his  life's  mystic  chain. 

It  was  a  hot  day  and  the  river  looked  alluring  and 
refreshing.  He  thought  of  the  big  tree  down  by  the 
shore,  and  of  its  cooling  shade.  He  decided  to  spend 
the  rest  of  the  afternoon  there,  alone  with  his  thoughts 
and  his  violin.  There  was  something  in  his  soul  which 
he  could  express  only  upon  his  beloved  instrument.  He 
had  played  very  little  since  coming  to  Rixton.     Twice 


84  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

he  had  amazed  the  Jukes'  children  with  lively  airs,  and 
one  evening  he  had  played  for  their  parents.  He  smiled 
to  himself  as  he  thought  of  its  soothing  effect  upon 
Jake  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  chair. 

There  was  no  sign  of  life  in  the  house  as  he  entered. 
Mrs.  Jukes  and  the  children  had  gone  to  visit  a  neigh- 
bour, and  Jake  was  sound  asleep  upon  the  sofa  in  the 
sitting-room.  Going  at  once  to  his  little  room,  Doug- 
las took  his  violin  out  of  its  case,  and,  carrying  it  under 
his  arm,  he  slipped  quietly  out  of  the  house  and  made 
his  way  swiftly  down  over  the  fields  toward  the  river. 

He  was  very  hot  and  it  was  refreshing  to  sit  under 
the  shade  of  the  tree  with  his  back  against  the  big  ice- 
scarred  trunk.  In  fact,  he  was  so  comfortable  that  he 
had  no  inclination  to  play  upon  his  violin  which  was 
lying  by  his  side.  It  was  good  to  sit  there  and  think. 
Again  the  old  lure  of  the  freedom  of  a  wandering  life 
swept  upon  him,  and  the  impression  the  Bentons  had 
made  gradually  diminished.  His  eyes  followed  several 
swallows  as  they  darted  here  and  there.  What  a  happy 
free-from-care  life  they  must  lead,  he  mused.  They 
come  and  go  at  will,  and  in  a  few  weeks  they  will  be 
speeding  away  to  the  sunny  southland.  Why  should 
the  birds  have  privileges  greater  than  human  beings? 

And  as  he  sat  there  a  drowsiness  stole  over  him  which 
he  made  no  effort  to  resist.  In  a  few  minutes  the  world 
of  sight  and  sound  was  blotted  out,  and  he  slept.  He 
awakened  with  a  start  and  looked  around.  Then  he 
glanced  at  his  watch  and  found  that  it  was  four  o  'clock, 
and  that  he  must  have  been  asleep  for  about  half  an 
hour.  What  was  it  that  aroused  him?  he  wondered. 
No  one  was  in  sight,  and  he  could  hear  nothing.  A 
sense   of  loneliness  suddenly   took   possession   of  him. 


EVENING  GLOW  85 

Almost  mechanically,  he  picked  up  his  violin  and  drew 
the  bow  across  the  strings.  At  first,  he  played  several 
old  familiar  hymns,  but  ere  long  he  drifted  off  into 
dreamland  to  the  varying  fancies  of  heart  and  mind. 
On  and  on  he  played,  unheeding  time  and  place.  The 
music  varied,  now  soft  and  low,  and  again  rising  to 
grand  triumphant  strains. 

At  length  he  paused,  and  looked  quickly  around.  A 
feeling  possessed  him  that  he  was  being  watched. 
Neither  was  he  mistaken,  for  a  girl  at  once  stepped 
forth  from  behind  a  clump  of  bushes  and  advanced 
toward  him.  He  felt  sure  he  had  seen  her  before,  but 
just  where  he  could  not  at  the  moment  remember.  She 
was  very  beautiful,  and  her  face  glowed  with  animation, 
and  her  eyes  sparkled  with  delight. 

"Oh,  I  heard  you,"  she  laughingly  began.  "You 
thought  you  were  alone,  did  you  ? ' ' 

"I  certainly  did,"  Douglas  replied.  "But  I  am  de- 
lighted to  see  you,  as  I  was  getting  tired  of  my  own 
company.     Do  you  like  music." 

"I  like  yours,  oh,  so  much!  I  can  never  forget  the 
first  time  I  heard  you  play." 

"Heard  me  play!"  Douglas  repeated  in  surprise. 
"When  was  that?" 

"Why,  don't  you  remember?"  and  the  girl's  eyes 
opened  wide  in  astonishment.  "It  was  that  awful 
night  in  the  city  when  my  father  was  playing,  and  you 
came  and  took  the  violin  from  him,  and " 

1 '  You  don 't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  that  girl  ? ' ' 
Douglas  interrupted,  as  he  leaped  to  his  feet.  "Why, 
yes,  you  are  the  very  same  though  not  so  pale  and 
frightened.  I  knew  I  had  seen  you  somewhere  before, 
but  could  not  remember  just  where." 


86  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Isn't  it  funny!"  and  the  girl's  silvery  laugh  rang 
out.  "How  in  the  world  did  you  happen  to  come 
here?" 

"Oh,  I'm  working  for  Jake  Jukes,  that's  all." 

"I  know  that.  You're  the  man  who  put  him  on  his 
hack.     My,  you  must  be  a  great  wrestler!" 

"Why,  who  told  you  about  that?"  Douglas  smilingly 
questioned. 

"Empty,  of  course.  He  knows  everything  that  goes 
on  in  this  place." 

"And  tells  it,  too?" 

"Why,  yes.  He's  as  good  as  a  newspaper.  Nell  says 
we  wouldn't  know  what  is  going  on  but  for  Empty." 

"Who  is  Nell?" 

"She's  my  shter,  and  she's  reading  to  daddy  now, 
in  front  of  the  house.  You  must  come  with  me  at  once 
and  see  her,  for  I've  told  her  about  you  a  thousand 
times. ' ' 

"About  me!" 

"Yes.  How  you  played  on  the  street,  and  were  so 
good  to  us.  And  daddy  will  be  so  glad  to  meet  you, 
too,  for  he  has  been  feeling  so  badly  ever  since  that 
night  that  he  didn't  thank  you  for  your  kindness." 

The  girl's  face  was  flushed  with  excitement,  and  she 
was  anxious  to  rush  off  to  tell  of  the  great  discovery 
she  had  made.  But  she  wished  to  take  her  prize  with 
her,  and  Douglas  was  nothing  loath  to  go,  as  he  longed 
to  meet  the  old  man  he  had  seen  in  the  city.  He  be- 
lieved that  he  was  Andy  Strong,  of  whom  Jake  had 
spoken,  and  who  had  "a  great  deal  to  say  about 
churches,  'ligion  an'  parsons,"  and  who  was  "down  on 
'em  all."  He  felt  that  he  must  be  prepared  for  an- 
other wrestling  match  far  different  from  his  bout  with 


EVENING  GLOW  87 

Jake.  He  might  find  in  this  blind  musician  an  able 
opponent,  and  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  be  on  his 
guard. 

The  girl  was  delighted  when  Douglas,  tucking  his 
violin  under  his  arm,  walked  along  by  her  side.  She 
was  an  excellent  companion  and  chatted  incessantly. 

"This  is  where  we  skate  in  the  winter/ '  she  told  him, 
pointing  to  the  river.  "Oh,  it  is  such  fun  when  the  ice, 
is  good.  The  boys  come  at  night  and  build  great  fires 
and  we  skate  around  them." 

"Do  you  go  to  school?"  Douglas  asked  when  the 
girl  paused  an  instant. 

"Not  now.  You  see,  I  have  to  help  Nell,  and  that 
takes  much  of  my  time.  But  daddy  teaches  me.  He 
is  a  great  scholar,  and  knows  most  everything.  He 
was  a  college  professor  before  he  became  blind." 

"Was  he?"  Douglas  asked  in  surprise.  "At  what 
college?" 

"Passdale;  and  it  was  such  a  lovely  place.  My  dear 
mother*  died  when  we  were  there.  I  was  only  a  little 
girl  when  we  left,  but  I  remember  it  well.  Nell  was 
at  college  when  father  became  blind,  and  she  felt  so 
badly  about  coming  away  before  she  could  graduate." 

"And  have  you  lived  here  ever  since?" 

"Oh,  yes.     There  is  no  other  place  for  us  to  go." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"Sure.  I  am  happy  wherever  daddy  and  Nell  are. 
We  have  such  great  times  together.  But  here  we  are 
right  at  the  house.     It  wasn't  far,  was  it?" 

Douglas  did  not  reply  for  he  was  held  spell-bound 
by  the  beautiful  and  interesting  scene  before  him.  In 
a  comfortable  arm-ohair  sat  the  blind  musician  listen- 
ing intently  to  what  his  daughter  was  reading.     She 


88  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

was  seated  upon  the  ground  by  his  side,  with  a  book 
lying  in  her  lap.  It  was  only  for  an  instant,  however, 
that  Douglas  was  privileged  to  watch  her  unobserved, 
but  it  was  sufficient  for  him  to  note  the  rare  charm  of 
her  face  and  form. 

"Oh,  daddy!  Nell!"  the  girl  cried  as  she  rushed 
forward.     "You  can't  guess  who  is  here?" 

At  these  words  the  fair  reader  lifted  her  head  and 
her  eyes  rested  upon  the  stranger. 

"It's  the  man  who  played  for  us  in  the  city,"  the 
girl  explained.  "Isn't  it  wonderful  that  I  have  found 
him!" 

An  expression  of  pleasure  swept  over  the  young 
woman's  face,  as  she  at  once  rose  to  her  feet  and  held 
out  her  hand. 

"Any  one  who  has  befriended  my  father  and  sister 
is  welcome  here,"  she  quietly  remarked.  "Father," 
and  she  turned  partly  around,  "this  is  the  man  you 
have  told  us  so  much  about.  Nan  has  brought  him 
to  see  you." 

"I  am  delighted  to  meet  you,  sir,"  the  old  man  re- 
plied, as  he  took  Douglas'  hand.  "I  have  wanted  to 
thank  you  ever  since  that  night  you  helped  us  in  the 
city.     Get  Mr.  " 

"Handyman,"  Douglas  assisted. 

"Handyman,  that's  a  good  name.  Nan,  get  him  a 
chair  and  make  him  comfortable." 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  have  interrupted  the  reading, 
sir,"  Douglas  apologised.  "It  was  your  daughter  who 
brought  me  here.  I  do  not  need  a  chair,  as  I  prefer 
to  sit  upon  the  ground." 

"I  am  so  pleased  that  you  have  come,"  the  old  man 
replied.     "You  must  have  supper  with  us.     We  have 


EVENING  GLOW  89 

it  out  here  on  the  grass  when  the  afternoon  is  fine  and 
warm.     Come,  Nell,  get  it  ready.' ' 

"Please  do  not  go  to  any  trouble  on  my  account," 
Douglas  protested. 

1 '  It  is  no  trouble, ' '  Nell  assured  him.  ' '  It  is  father  's 
supper  time,  anyway.  He  always  like  to  have  it  early, 
especially  on  Sunday.  You  two  can  have  a  nice  chat 
together.     Come,  Nan,  I  want  you." 

As  Douglas  looked  around  he  was  surprised  to  find 
what  a  beautiful  spot  it  really  was.  The  house  nestled 
in  the  midst  of  fine  elm  and  maple  trees.  Surround- 
ing the  house  was  a  garden,  consisting  of  vegetables 
and  berries  of  several  kinds.  Part  of  the  land  was  in 
grass,  not  yet  cut.  About  the  place  was  a  strong  page 
wire  fence  which  extended  almost  to  the  river. 

"You  have  a  beautiful  place  here,  sir,"  Douglas 
remarked. 

"Indeed  it  is.  A  happy  home  and  a  perfect  day; 
what  more  could  one  desire?  'The  Lord  hath  done 
great  things  for  us  already,  whereof  we  rejoice'.  " 

Douglas  gave  a  slight  start  of  surprise  as  the  old 
man  slowly  uttered  these  words.  Surely,  if  he  were  an 
unbeliever  he  would  not  quote  Scripture  in  such  a  rev- 
erent manner. 

"It  is  good  that  you  can  view  it  that  way,  sir.  Few 
people  ever  think  of  being  thankful  for  what  they 
receive." 

"That  is  where  they  make  a  sad  mistake.  I  have 
learned  through  long  years  that  Ezra  of  old  was  right 
n  he  told  the  people  to  turn  from  weeping  and  to 
'drink  the  sweet.'  Before  this  blindness  came  upon  me 
I  was  something  like  Saul  of  Tarsus,  always  kicking 
against  the  pricks,  or  in  other  words,  the  dictates  of 


90  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

conscience!  'Before  I  was  afflicted,  I  went  astray,* 
as  the  psalmist  sang.  But  I  have  viewed  things  in  a 
different  light  since  then,  and  though  the  Father's  hand 
has  been  heavy  upon  me,  it  was  for  my  good,  and  for 
which  I  am  most  thankful.  The  great  Master's  warn- 
ing to  Simon  is  most  applicable  to  me.  'When  thou 
wast  young, '  He  said,  '  thou  girdest  thyself,  and  walkest 
whither  thou  wouldest ;  but  when  thou  shalt  be  old,  thou 
shalt  stretch  forth  thy  hands,  and  another  shall  gird 
thee,  and  carry  thee  whither  thou  wouldest  not.'  " 

"You  are  well  versed  in  Scripture,  I  see,"  Douglas 
remarked  as  the  old  man  paused. 

"And  why  not?  It  is  the  one  Book  from  which  I 
have  drawn  the  greatest  inspiration.  It,  and  the  works 
of  the  immortal  bard  of  Avon  are  the  books  I  recom- 
mended above  all  others  to  the  students  of  my  class. 
Not  only  for  the  great  uplifting  influence,  but  for  the 
wonderful  language,  I  advised  them  to  drink  deeply  of 
those  profound  wells  of  purest  English." 

"What  did  you  teach  at  college?"  Douglas  enquired. 

"English  Literature,  as  you  can  easily  guess  from 
my  remarks.    I  was  at  Passdale  for  over  fifteen  years.,, 

"You  must  miss  such  work  now." 

"Not  at  all.  I  have  other  interests  to  occupy  my 
time,  and  my  present  leisure  affords  me  the  opportu- 
nity of  carrying  out  a  work  which  has  long  been  in 
my  mind." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"It  is  the  re-writing  and  revising  of  my  notes  on 
the  plays  of  Shakespeare.  It  is  well  advanced  now,  and 
a  noted  publisher,  a  special  friend  of  mine,  will  publish 
it  as  soon  as  it  is  completed." 


EVENING  GLOW  91 

4 'You  must  have  found  your  blindness  a  great  handi- 
cap, sir." 

"You  and  others  might  think  so,"  and  the  old  man 
smiled.  "But  there  is  an  ancient  proverb  which  tells 
us  that  when  God  closes  a  door  he  always  opens  a  win- 
dow. It  was  so  with  sightless  Milton,  and  though  I  do 
not  class  myself  with  him,  nevertheless,  it  has  been  true 
in  my  case.  It  was  Emerson  who  gave  us  that  won- 
derful essay  on  Compensation,  and  he  knew  whereof  he 
wrote. ' ' 

"But  how  have  you  managed  to  prepare  this  work 
of  yours  ? ' '  Douglas  questioned.  ' '  You  surely  must  have 
had  some  assistance." 

"Nell  has  been  my  guardian  angel  ever  since  my 
blindness.  She  does  all  my  writing,  reads  the  plays 
and  my  notes  to  refresh  my  memory.  She  was  reading 
King  Lear  this  afternoon,  and  I  was  much  stirred  by 
the  sad  trials  of  the  poor  old  king.  I  mentally  com- 
pared my  lot  with  his  and  found  that  the  advantage 
is  mine.  He  had  no  home,  two  ungrateful  daughters, 
and,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  no  'shadow  of  a  rock  in  a 
weary  land/  I  have  a  comfortable  dwelling,  small 
though  it  is,  two  good  and  loving  daughters,  a  work 
which  gives  me  great  pleasure,  and  the  hope  of  a  sure 
abiding  place  not  made  with  hands.  What  more  could 
a  man  desire?" 

"You  are  indeed  to  be  congratulated,"  Douglas  re- 
plied. "And  much  pleasure  lies  ahead  of  you  when 
your  book  is  published.  You  will  have  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  it  will  be  of  great  interest  and  assist- 
ance to  many.  I,  for  one,  shall  look  forward  to  read- 
ing it." 

"Will  you  really?"  and  the  old  man's  face  beamed 


92  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

with  pleasure.  "But  perhaps  you  would  like  to  see 
it  in  manuscript?  I  have  not  shown  it  to  any  one  out- 
side my  own  household.  You  are  the  first  I  have  talked 
to  in  this  way  about  my  work.    Nell !    Nan ! "  he  called. 

"WTiat  is  it,  father?"  Nell  asked,  as  she  at  that  in- 
stant appeared  carrying  a  large  tray  in  her  hands. 

"Bring  the  work,  Nell.  I  want  to  show  it  to  Mr. 
Handyman." 

"Suppose  you  wait  until  after  supper,  father,"  his 
daughter  suggested.  "Everything  is  all  ready,  and 
when  we  are  through,  you  can  show  it  to  Mr.  Handy- 
man." 

"But  I  need  it  now." 

"Very  well,  then,"  and  Nell  gave  the  order  to  Nan. 

It  took  but  a  few  minutes  to  spread  the  white  cloth 
upon  the  grass  and  arrange  the  dishes. 

"I  am  afraid  this  is  a  very  humble  supper,"  Nell 
apologised,  as  she  sat  down  upon  the  ground  and  began 
to  pour  the  tea. 

"Surely  you  do  not  call  this  humble!"  Douglas  re- 
plied. "It  has  been  a  long  time  since  I  have  seen  such 
bread  and  cake.     And  what  delicious  strawberries!" 

"They  are  Nell's,"  the  professor  proudly  explained. 
1 '  She  is  the  gardener  here. ' ' 

"What  about  Nan,  father?  You  must  give  her  some 
credit." 

"Oh,  I  don't  count,  especially  when  it  comes  to  farm- 
ing," and  Nan  gave  her  pretty  head  a  slight  toss.  "I'm 
willing  to  let  Nell  take  all  the  credit." 

Douglas  felt  perfectly  at  home  now.  It  was  such  a 
bright  and  happy  time,  and  he  was  sorry  when  the 
meal  was  finished.  He  could  not  understand  the  mys- 
tery  surrounding  the  visit  of  the   professor  and   his 


EVENING  GLOW  93 

daughter  to  the  city,  begging  on  the  streets  for  money. 
Why  had  they  done  it?  he  asked  himself,  when  they 
seemed  to  have  everything  that  they  needed. 

"Now,  Nan,  bring  me  my  box  of  cigars,"  her  father 
ordered  when  supper  was  over. 

"Cigars!"  the  girl  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "Why, 
daddy,  you  have  been  keeping  them  as  if  they  were  pre- 
cious jewels." 

"I  know  it,  dear.  But  jewels  must  be  used  some- 
time, and  so  must  cigars.  I  have  kept  them  for  rare 
days,  and  this  is  one  of  them.  Since  my  old  friend  Dr. 
Royden  visited  me,  I  have  had  no  one  to  take  a  keen  in- 
terest in  my  work  until  to-day.  When  he  sent  me  those 
cigars  the  following  Christmas,  he  wrote  that  they  were 
extra  good  ones,  and  were  to  be  kept  for  special  occa- 
sions. My  old  pipe  will  serve  when  I  am  alone,  but 
to-day  we  must  have  cigars." 

Douglas  noticed  that  Nell  was  much  pleased  to  see  her 
father  in  such  excellent  spirits.  She  touched  the  match 
to  his  cigar,  and  watched  him  as  he  blew  the  smoke  into 
the  air  with  considerable  relish.  What  a  picture  she 
would  make  sitting  there,  he  thought.  She  seemed  to 
be  wholly  unaware  of  her  charm  and  grace  of  manner, 
reminding  him  of  some  beautiful  flower  radiating  an 
unconscious  influence  of  sweetness,  purity  and  joy. 

1 '  This  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  afternoons  I  have 
spent,"  Douglas  remarked.  "What  a  beautiful 
place  you  have  here,  with  the  river  right  near,  and  the 
spire  of  the  church  showing  above  the  tree  tops.  I 
wish  I  were  an  artist.  By  the  way,  I  was  around  the 
church  this  morning,  and  everything  shows  signs  of 
<-t.    It  struck  me  as  rather  sad  and  strange." 

As  there  was  no  reply,  he  glanced  toward  Nell  and 


U  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

was  surprised  to  see  an  anxious  expression  upon  her 
face.  She  gave  her  head  a  slight  shake  and  held  up  a 
warning  finger.  He  looked  quickly  at  her  father,  and 
saw  that  his  face  had  undergone  a  remarkable  change. 
He  was  sitting  motionless,  clutching  his  cigar  between 
the  fingers  of  his  right  hand.  Presently,  his  lips  moved 
and  he  spoke  in  short,  jerky  sentences. 

"Strange,  you  ask?"  he  demanded.  "Why  strange? 
What  else  could  be  expected?  Half-fledged  parsons 
strutting  around  as  if  they  owned  the  universe.  Little 
wonder  the  church  is  closed.  And  what  of  the  people? 
Look  at  the  leaders  in  this  parish." 

"Hush,  hush,  father,  dear,"  Nell  interposed.  "Don't 
get  excited." 

"  I  'm  not  excited ;  I  ?m  just  stating  plain  facts.  You 
know  about  Si  Stubbles  as  well  as  I  do." 

' '  But  Mr.  Handyman  is  a  stranger,  remember,  father, 
and  we  must  not  trouble  him  with  such  things  on  this 
his  first  visit." 

1  ■  Excuse  me, ,  sir, ' '  and  the  old  man  leaned  forward, 
as  if  he  would  look  into  his  visitor's  face.  "Nell  is 
quite  right;  she  is  always  right,  and  I  shall  say  no 
more  about  this  painful  subject  to-day." 

Xell  at  once  began  to  gather  up  the  neglected  supper 
dishes,  and  Douglas  felt  that  it  was  about  time  that  he 
was  going.  He  noticed  that  she  seemed  somewhat  ner- 
vous and  excited.  At  first  he  thought  it  was  due  to  her 
father's  words,  but  as  he  caught  her  giving  a  quick 
and  an  occasional  glance  toward  the  shore,  he  believed 
that  she  was  expecting  to  meet  some  one  there  in  a  few 
minutes.  He  wondered  who  it  was,  and  he  felt  that 
Nell  was  not  altogether  pleased  at  the  idea  of  seeing  the 
one  who  was  expecting  to  meet  her  there.    The  thought 


EVENING  GLOW  95 

gave  him  considerable  satisfaction,  though  he  could  not 
explain  why. 

''You  ,will  come  again  soon,  will  you  not?"  the  pro- 
fessor asked,  as  Douglas  bade  him  good-by. 

1 '  I  should  like  to  very  much, ' '  was  the  reply.  ' '  I  am 
most  anxious  to  see  your  book,  and  hear  more. about  it." 

1  ■  Certainly,  certainly.  That  will  give  me  great  pleas- 
ure. I  intended  to  discuss  it  with  you  this  evening,  but 
I  do  not  feel  equal  to  it  now." 

"And  I  want  to  hear  some  of  your  wonderful  music," 
Nell  remarked.  "I  am  so  sorry  that  you  have  not 
played  anything  this  evening." 

"There  is  nothing  wonderful  about  it,  I  assure  you, 
Miss  Strong.     Just  ordinary  music." 

"It  is  wonderful,"  Nan  declared.  "I  have  heard 
you  twice  now,  and  I  guess  I  know.  And  when  you 
.'ome  next i time,  remember  you're  not  going  to  play  all 
the  time,  nor  talk  book  nor  Church  matters;  you're 
going  to  talk  to  me.  I've  got  a  whole  string  of  ques- 
tions I  want  to  ask  you,  and  .this  afternoon  I've  had 
to  be  as  mum  as  an  oyster." 

"All  right,  then,"  Douglas  laughingly  replied.  "I 
shall  see  that  you  are  not  overlooked  the  next  time  I 
come. ' ' 

The  western  sky  was  all  aglow  as  Douglas  walked 
slowly  along  the  road.  There  was  a  sweet  peace  over 
meadow  and  forest.  The  thought  of  Nell  brought  a 
thrill  to  his  heart  and  a  strange  new  peace  into  his  soul, 
It  was  the  mystic  glow,  the  prelude  of  the  coming  night, 
and  the  dawn  of  a  new  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER  X 


PRIDE   AND   IMPUDENCE 


IT  was  not  easy  for  Douglas  to  get  to  sleep  that  night. 
He  thought  much  about  the  Bentons  and  their 
anxiety  over  their  wayward  daughter.  How  sad  it  was 
that  a  young  life  should  be  so  quickly  and  easily  ruined 
in  the  city.  He  knew  that  there  were  many  such  cases, 
of  mere  girls,  carefully  reared,  who  were  drawn  to  the 
city  only  to  be  singed  or  ruined,  as  moths  by  the  glar- 
ing flame.  An  angry  feeling  came  into  his  heart,  as  he 
recalled  how  little  was  being  done  to  keep  such  girls 
from  destruction.  He  thought  of  Dr.  Rannage,  and  his 
indifference  to  such  matters.  Instead  of  talking,  always 
talking,  he  could  accomplish  so  much  by  throwing  the 
weight  of  his  influence  as  rector  of  St.  Margaret's  into 
the  cause. 

From  the  Bentons  and  their  troubles,  his  mind  drifted 
off  to  the  professor  and  his  daughters.  He  became 
greatly  puzzled  over  their  position.  They  had  a  com- 
fortable home,  and  seemed  to  be  doing  well.  Why, 
then,  was  it  necessary  for  the  blind  old  man  and  Nan 
to  beg  on  the  city  streets?  Did  Nell  know  about  it? 
he  wondered.  A  vision  of  her  beauty  and  grace  of 
manner  rose  before  him.  What  strength  of  character 
she  seemed  to  possess,  and  how  thoughtful  she  was  of 
her  father's  comfort.  But  what  was  the  mystery  sur- 
rounding the  man  she  was  in  the  habit  of  meeting  by  the 

9G 


PRIDE  AND  IMPUDENCE  97 

*ld  tree  on  the  shore?  It  was  quite  evident  that  her 
father  knew  nothing  about  it.  He  longed  to  know  more, 
and  the  professor's  antagonism  to  "parsons"  and 
church  "leaders  in  the  parish." 

He  thought  over  these  problems  the  next  morning  as 
he  worked  in  the  field.  Jake  might  know  something,  but 
he  did  not  care  to  ask  him.  He  did  not  wish  his  em- 
ployer to  have  any  idea  that  he  was  interested  in  the 
Strongs.  Though  he  would  not  acknowledge  it  to 
himself,  yet  his  hesitation,  in  fact,  was  due  to  the  feel- 
ing that  in  some  way  the  real  secret  of  his  heart  might 
be  revealed.  He  did  not  wish  to  let  others  have  the 
slightest  hint  of  the  deep  impression  Nell  had  already 
made  upon  him. 

Just  as  they  had  finished  dinner,  a  neighbour,  driv- 
ing down  the  road,  left  a  message  for  Jake.  It  was 
from  Si  Stubbles,  who  wanted  Jake  to  help  him  that 
afternoon  with  his  hay.  He  was  short-handed  at  the 
mill  and  could  not  spare  a  man  for  the  field. 

"That's  jist  like  Si,"  Jake  growled,  as  the  neigh- 
bour drove  away.  "He's  always  thinkin'  of  himself, 
an'  can't  seem  to  see  that  others  have  hay  to  git  in." 

"But  you  don't  have  to  go,  do  you?"  Douglas  asked. 
1 '  It  isn  't  fair  to  ask  you  to  leave  your  own  hay. ' ' 

"H'm,  that's  all  very  well  in  theory.  But  I  guess 
ye  don't  know  Si  yit.  If  I  don't  help  him  this  after- 
noon, he'll  never  fergit  it,  an'  next  winter,  when  I 
want  a  job  with  my  team,  he'll  remember  it.  Si 
wouldn't  fergit,  not  on  yer  life." 

"Suppose  I  go,  then,  in  your  place,"  Douglas  sug- 
gested. "It  will  be  better  for  you  to  stay  here  as  you 
know  more  about  your  own  work." 


98  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

1 '  Would  ye  mind  ? ' '  Jake  asked,  much  relieved.  '  •  You 
Mill  do  jist  as  well  as  me." 

Douglas  was  only  too  glad  to  go.  He  did  want  to 
meet  Si  Stubbles  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much,  and 
this  was  too  good  an  opportunity  to  miss.  He  would, 
no  doubt,  see  Stubbles,  and  thus  be  able  to  form  an 
opinion  of  the  man  without  arousing  any  suspicion.  He 
would  be  a  farm-hand  and  nothing  more. 

The  Stubbles'  house  was  an  imposing  one,  situated 
but  a  short  distance  from  the  main  highway.  A  spa- 
cious verandah  ran  around  the  front  and  sides,  several 
feet  from  the  ground.  Everything  about  the  place  was 
in  excellent  condition,  the  lawn  well  kept,  and  the 
hedges  neatly  trimmed.  To  protect  the  grounds  from 
trespassers,  a  strong  wire  fence  had  been  erected  along 
the  road,  and  the  gate  leading  to  the  house  was  always 
kept  closed.  A  board  fastened  to  the  gate  bore  the  im- 
posing name  of  "The  Castle"  in  bright  gilded  letters. 

As  Douglas  opened  the  gate  and  entered,  a  team  had 
just  rounded  the  corner  of  the  house  on  its  way  to  the 
barn.  As  it  came  in  front  of  the  house,  Stubbles  him- 
self appeared  upon  the  verandah,  carrying  a  table  nap- 
kin in  his  hand,  for  he  had  not  yet  finished  his  dinner. 
He  was  in  no  pleasant  frame  of  mind,  and  was  furi- 
ously berating  the  teamster. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  driving  in  front  of  the 
house?"  he  demanded.    "Don't  you  know  any  better?" 

"I've  got  to  git  that  hay  down  there  in  the  corner," 
the  teamster  surlily  replied.  "If  I  don't  go  in  this 
way,  how  am  I  to  git  out,  I'd  like  to  know?  I  can't 
turn  down  there." 

"Carry  the  hay  out,  then,  you  lazy  rascal." 


PRIDE  AND  IMPUDENCE  99 

"It  11  take  me  all  the  afternoon  to  do  it,  an'  then 
yell  growl  at  me  if  I  don't  git  done  before  night." 

"None  of  your  impudence  to  me,"  Stubbles  roared. 
"  1 11  make  an  example  of  you  if  you  dare  to  speak  that 
way  again." 

He  was  livid  with  anger,  and,  forgetting  where  he 
was,  he  took  a  step  forward  as  if  he  would  then  and 
there  chastise  the  man  with  his  own  hands.  As  he  did 
so,  he  stepped  off  the  platform,  and  with  a  wild  shriek 
and  a  frantic  effort  to  save  himself,  he  went  headfirst 
down  the  steps  to  the  ground  below. 

Douglas  had  been  standing  not  far  off  listening  with 
considerable  interest  to  the  angry  conversation  between 
master  and  man.  But  when  he  saw  Stubbles  take  the 
wild  plunge,  he  rushed  forward  and  picked  up  the  in- 
jured man.  The  latter  was  groaning  and  cursing,  con- 
tending that  he  was  killed,  and  that  the  teamster  was 
to  blame  for  the  accident. 

Lifting  him  in  his  arms,  Douglas  carried  him  up  the 
steps  just  as  Mrs.  Stubbles  came  from  the  house. 

"Oh!  what  is  the  matter?"  she  cried.  "What  has 
happened  to  Simie?" 

"He's  had  a  bad  fall,"  Douglas  replied.  "Hold  the 
door  open  while  I  carry  him  into  the  house.  Show  me 
where  to  lay  him." 

Into  the  sitting-room  he  carried  the  wounded  man, 
and  placed  him  upon  a  large  sofa  near  the  window. 
^\i:>.  Stubbles  followed,  and  stood  over  her  husband, 
wringing  her  hands  in  despair. 

"Are  you  much  hurt,  Simie?"  she  asked.  "Shall  I 
send  for  the  doctor?" 

"Shut  up  your  bawling!"  her  husband  ordered. 
"I'm  not  killed,  though  I  thought  I  was  at  first.    Get 


100  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

some  warm  water  and  bathe  my  bruises.  Confound 
that  teamster!  I'll  discharge  him  at  once.  What  busi- 
ness had  he  to  drive  in  front  of  the  house  and  then  talk 
back  to  me  as  he  did?    When  is  Ben  coming  back?" 

"He  expected  to  get  home  this  morning,"  Mrs.  Stub- 
bles replied. 

"He  expected  to  do  so,  did  he?  H'm,  he's  always 
expecting  to  do  things  he  never  does.  He  should  have 
been  here  to  look  after  the  haying.  I've  got  too  many 
things  on  my  mind  already  without  having  to  bother 
with  that." 

1 '  Don 't  be  too  hard  on  the  dear  boy,  Simie.  He  is  to 
bring  the  girls,  you  know.  They  must  have  delayed 
him." 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  just  like  you;  always  excusing  Ben, 
the  worthless  scamp.  If  he  were  as  interested  in  busi- 
ness as  he  is  in  running  around  in  the  car  and  spend- 
ing so  much  time  in  the  city,  what  a  help  he  would  be 
to  me.  But  hurry  up  with  that  water,  can 't  you  ?  My, 
I'm  sore!" 

"You  won't  need  me  any  more  now,  I  suppose," 
Douglas  remarked  when  Mrs.  Stubbles  had  left  the 
room.     "I  might  as  well  get  to  work." 

"Who  are  you,  anyway?"  the  injured  man  asked, 
turning  his  little  squinting  eyes  upon  Douglas'  face. 
For  the  first  time  he  seemed  to  realise  that  it  was  a 
stranger  who  had  assisted  him. 

"I  am  John  Handyman,  Jake  Jukes'  help,"  was  the 
reply.  "I  have  come  to  give  you  a  hand  with  the  hay 
this  afternoon." 

"And  isn't  Jake  coming?" 

"No.  He  has  hay  of  his  own  to  get  in,  and  so  I 
offered  to  come  in  his  stead." 


PRIDE  AND  IMPUDENCE  101 

"Just  like  Jake,"  Stubbies  growled,  "always  think- 
ing of  himself.  He  knot's  very  we! J  what  K  fkt  I  am  in. 
I  don't  know  what  this  place  is  coming  to,  anyway. 
One  can't  get  a  neighbour  to  do  a  hand's  turn,  and  the 
men  you  hire  these  days  are  as  impudent  as  the  devil." 

"Don't  you  worry  about  the  hay,"  Douglas  soothed. 
"We  can  get  it  in  all  right  this  afternoon." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  haying?" 

"I  was  brought  up  on  a  farm,  and  should  know 
something  about  it." 

"You  look  big  and  strong  enough,"  and  Stubbles 
viewed  him  from  head  to  foot.  "Say,  are  you  the  chap 
who  beat  Jake  in  a  wrestling  bout  lately?" 

"So  you  heard  about  that  little  encounter,  did  you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  naturally  hear  of  such  things  sooner  or 
later.  But  what  are  you  doing  here,  anyway?  You 
don't  look  like  a  man  who  has  been  in  the  habit  of 
hiring  out." 

"I'm  just  trying  to  earn  my  daily  bread,  and  farm- 
ing suits  me  at  the  present  time." 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  put  up  with  you,"  Stubbles 
growled.    "Get  to  work  at  once,  and  no  fooling,  mind." 

Douglas  found  the  teamster  a  pleasant  working  com- 
panion, who  loaded  the  hay  on  the  wagon. 

"How  is  Si  feelin'  now?"  he  enquired. 

"Oh,  I  guess  he's  all  right.  He  had  a  nasty  fall 
and  might  have  been  killed." 

"H'm,  that  old  cuss  won't  die  that  way.  It  would 
be  too  easy  a  death.  If  he  doesn't  bust  when  he  gits 
in  one  of  them  mad  fits  of  his,  he'll  be  skinned  alive 
by  somebody  one  of  these  days.  I'd  like  to  be  around 
an'  hear  him  squeal.  It  would  make  up  fer  a  great 
deal  of  impudence  I've  stood,  to  say  nuthin'  of  his 


102  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

confounded  pride,  as  well  as  the  whole  darn  family. 
But  I  ftiit  i,  i  sp  witn  Si  bettor  than  I  kin  with  Ben; 
he's  the  limit." 

" What's  the  matter  with  him?" 

"Well,  Si  knows  a  little  about  farmin',  but  Ben 
knows  no  more  about  it  than  I  do  about  harnessin'  up 
a  baby  with  pins,  strings,  ribbons,  an'  all  its  other  gear. 
Ben  thinks  he  knows,  an'  that's  where  he  makes  a  fool 
of  himself.  He  gives  orders  which  no  one  in  his  right 
mind  would  think  of  obeyin ',  an '  then  he  gits  as  mad  as 
blazes  when  ye  don't  do  as  he  says." 

"Is  Ben  the  only  son?"  Douglas  asked. 

"Thank  goodness,  yes.  One  is  bad  enough,  dear 
knows,  but  if  there  were  more,  ugh!" 

"What  does  Ben  do?" 

"Do?    Well,  I  wouldn't  like  to  tell  ye." 

"Does  he  work  at  anything,  I  mean?" 

"Not  a  tap.  He  depends  upon  his  dad  fer  a  livin\ 
See  what  he  did  this  mornin'.  Instead  of  stayin'  home 
an'  lookin'  after  the  hayin',  he  went  to  the  city.  That's 
what  he's  always  doin'j  runnin'  away  when  there's 
work  to  be  done." 

"He  was  home  yesterday,  was  he  not?" 

"Y'bet  yer  life  he  was,  especially  in  the  evenin'. 
He's  ginerally  around  about  that  time." 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  he's  struck  on  the  old  professor's  daughter. 
Her  father  doesn't  like  the  Stubbles  crowd,  an'  so  Ben 
sneaks  around  there  after  he 's  in  bed. ' ' 

"Isn't  it  strange  that  the  professor's  daughter  would 
do  such  a  thing?"  * 

"Now  ye've  got  me,"  and  the  teamster  gave  a  sav- 
age thrust  at  a  forkful  of  hay  Douglas  had  just  handed 


PRIDE  AND  IMPUDENCE  103 

up.  "The  whole  thing  is  a  mystery.  Nell's  as  fine  a 
girl  as  ever  wore  shoe-leather,  an'  why  she  meets  that 
feller  in  the  evenin'  beats  me." 

Douglas  made  no  reply  to  these  words,  but  went  on 
quietly  with  his  work.  So  it  was  Ben  Stubbles  who  met 
Nell  Strong  every  night  by  the  old  tree!  Surely  she 
must  know  something  about  his  life  if  what  the  team- 
ster had  just  told  him  were  true.  He  could  not  under- 
stand it.  She  did  not  seem  like  a  woman  who  would 
have  anything  to  do  with  such  a  worthless  character. 
And  yet  she  was  meeting  him  regularly,  and  at  the 
same  time  deceiving  her  blind  old  father. 

The  hay  in  the  corner  field  had  all  been  loaded,  and 
the  teamster  was  stooping  for  the  reins,  when  the  rau- 
cous honk  of  an  auto  caused  him  to  pause  and  look  to- 
ward the  road. 

"It's  Ben  an'  the  girls  now,"  he  exclaimed.  "Ye'd 
better  open  the  gate." 

"Oh,  I  guess  they  will  get  through  all  right,"  Doug- 
las replied. 

"No,  ye'd  better  go,"  the  teamster  urged.  "Ben '11 
be  as  mad  as  the  devil  if  ye  don't.  If  ye  won't,  then 
I'll  have  to  git  down  an'  do  it.  There,  he's  tootin'  his 
horn  agin.     He's  pretty  mad,  I  can  tell  ye  that." 

Carrying  his  fork  over  his  shoulder,  Douglas  walked 
deliberately  across  the  field  toward  the  gate.  He  did 
not  wish  to  hurry,  as  he  wanted  to  see  how  angry  Ben 
could  become,  and  what  he  would  do. 

"Get  a  move  on  there,  you  lazy  devil!"  Ben  shouted. 
"Didn't  you  hear  the  horn?" 

Douglas  had  almost  reached  the  gate,  when  he  sud- 
denly stopped  and  stared  at  the  man  in  the  car.  He 
had  seen  that  face  before  only  for  a  few  seconds  be- 


104  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

neath  the  electric  light  at  Long  Wharf  on  the  water- 
front. But  he  would  have  known  it  anywhere,  for  it 
had  been  indelibly  impressed  upon  his  memory.  So 
Ben  Stubbles  was  the  contemptible  coward  who  had 
pushed  that  woman  into  the  water  and  left  her  to  her 
fate!  He  had  often  longed  to  come  face  to  face  with 
that  man,  and  he  had  planned  what  he  would  do  when 
they  met.  But  here  he  was  before  him,  haughty  and 
impudent,  Nell's  lover,  and  the  son  of  the  autocrat  of 
Rixton. 

1 '  What  in  h are  you  staring  at  ? ' '  Ben  demanded. 

" Didn't  you  ever  see  human  beings  before?  Open 
the  gate,  and  be  damned  quick  about  it,  too." 

The  blood  surged  madly  through  Douglas'  veins,  and 
to  relieve  his  feelings  he  clutched  the  gate  and  tore  it 
open.  The  occupants  of  the  car  were  greatly  amused 
at  his  alacrity,  and  attributed  it  to  fear. 

"That  stirred  your  stumps,  all  right,  didn't  it?"  Ben 
sneered,  as  the  car  lurched  past  and  then  sped  up  the 
drive-way. 

Douglas  closed  the  gate,  fastened  it,  and  hastened  to 
the  barn  where  the  teamster  was  awaiting  him.  He 
climbed  into  the  loft  and  stowed  away  the  hay  as  it 
was  handed  up  to  him.  At  times  he  hardly  knew  what 
he  was  doing,  so  greatly  was  his  mind  agitated.  Why 
had  he  not  given  that  fellow  the  sound  thrashing  he  de- 
served? And  yet  he  was  thankful  that  he  had  con- 
trolled himself,  as  he  might  have  spoiled  all  his  plans 
had  he  given  way  to  hasty  action.  He  worked  with  a 
feverish  haste  all  that  afternoon,  and  talked  but  little. 
This  change  puzzled  the  teamster,  and  he  advised  him 
to  take  his  time. 


PRIDE  AND  IMPUDENCE  105 

''It's  no  use  killin'  yerself,"  he  told  him.  "Si  Stub- 
bles won't  thank  ye  if  ye  work  yer  head  off." 

"I  want  to  get  through  with  this  job,"  Douglas  re- 
plied. "I'm  not  working  by  the  day  as  you  are,  and 
Jake  needs  me." 

When  the  last  of  the  hay  had  been  unloaded,  Doug- 
las left  the  barn  and  started  for  the  road.  He  had  not 
seen  Ben  since  the  encounter  at  the  gate,  and  he  was 
hoping  that  he  would  not  meet  him  again  that  after- 
noon. He  did  not  feel  altogether  sure  of  himself,  and 
he  needed  time  and  quietness  to  think  carefully  over 
what  he  had  better  do. 

He  was  part  way  down  to  the  road  when  he  heard 
some  one  calling.  Stopping  and  looking  back,  he  saw 
that  it  was  Ben  hurrying  after  him.  As  he  approached, 
Douglas  saw  that  his  manner  was  altogether  changed, 
and  he  seemed  quite  affable.  He  was  dressed  in  a  white 
tennis-suit,  and  he  looked  cool  and  self-possessed. 

*  *  Say, ' '  he  began, ' '  I  understand  you  play  the  fiddle. ' ' 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  Douglas  curtly  questioned. 

"You  really  do,  then?" 

"Yes,  when  I  feel  like  it." 

"Won't  you  feel  like  it  to-night?  You  see,  there's 
to  be  a  dance  in  the  hall  this  evening,  but  the  man 
who  generally  plays  is  sick." 

"Can't  you  get  any  one  else?" 

"No  one  who  can  really  play.  There  is  a  chap  who 
tries  to,  but  you  would  think  he  was  filing  a  saw  in- 
stead of  playing  a  fiddle." 

"Perhaps  I  can't  do  any  better." 

"Oh,  you'll  be  all  right.  Jake  and  his  wife  have 
heard  you,  and  so  has  Empty." 

"And  Empty  spread  the  report,  did  he?" 


106  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Yes.    But,  say,  you'll  play,  won't  you?" 

Douglas  did  not  reply  at  once.  He  wondered  what 
Ben  would  say  if  lie  told  him  what  he  knew  about  his 
contemptible  act  at  Long  Wharf.  He  did  not  want  to 
play  at  the  dance,  and  yet  he  knew  it  would  be  too 
good  an  opportunity  to  miss.  He  would  see  many  of 
the  young  people  of  Rixton,  and  learn  things  which 
might  prove  of  great  assistance. 

"Where  is  the  hall?"  he  at  length  asked. 

"Down  at  Kane's  corner,  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  here." 

"What  time  does  the  dance  begin?" 

"Oh,  about  nine  o'clock.  The  crowd  won't  get  there 
much  before  that." 

"Very  well,  then,  I  will  be  there  and  do  the  best 
I  can," 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  FACE  AT  THE  DOOR 

IT  was  after  nine  before  the  dance  in  the  hall  at  the 
Corner  began.  Douglas  was  there  early,  and  he 
watched  with  much  interest  the  arrival  of  the  various 
young  couples.  He  did  not  know  any  of  them,  and  as 
he  sat  back  in  one  corner  he  mused  upon  their  lives, 
and  wondered  how  many  of  them  would  be  members 
of  his  flock  in  the  years  to  come.  They  gave  the  stran- 
ger who  was  to  play  for  them  that  night  but  passing 
glances,  though  all  had  heard  of  his  prowess  as  a  wres- 
tler. But  if  they  had  only  known  who  he  really  was,  how 
curiously  they  would  have  observed  his  every  movement. 

Douglas  was  much  pleased  at  the  quiet  way  in  which 
the  young  men  and  women  conducted  themselves. 
There  was  no  loud  talking,  and  when  the  dance  began, 
they  took  their  places  upon  the  floor  without  any  undue 
commotion.  They  danced  well  and  it  was  a  real  pleas- 
ure for  him  to  play.  He  was  quite  familiar  with  the 
dances,  and  he  recalled  just  such  events  in  his  own 
home  village  years  before,  when  he  himself  had  taken 
a  leading  part.  He  smiled  grimly  to  himself  as  he 
thought  of  what  his  Bishop  and  certain  of  his  brother 
clergymen  would  say  if  they  could  see  him  playing  the 
fiddle  at  a  country  dance. 

Among  those  upon  the  floor  there  was  one  couple 
107 


108  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

which  attracted  his  special  attention.  They  danced  well, 
and  seemed  greatly  devoted  to  each  other.  The  man 
was  good-looking,  and  a  fine  specimen  of  physical 
strength.  His  partner  was  of  medium  height,  neatly 
dressed,  and  remarkably  pretty.  Her  eyes  danced  with 
pleasure,  and  her  whole  body  moved  in  a  graceful 
rhythm  to  the  music,  and  occasionally  she  cast  a  grate- 
ful glance  toward  the  player.  She  evidently  enjoyed 
good  music  when  she  heard  it.  Everywhere  there 
seemed  to  be  perfect  peace  and  harmony,  and  to  Doug- 
las the  dancers  appeared  like  one  big  family.  They  all 
knew  one  another,  and  were  happy  together. 

During  the  intermission  which  followed  the  first 
dance,  Ben  Stubbles  and  his  sisters,  Miss  Annabel  and 
Miss  Maria,  arrived.  They  were  accompanied  by  Nell, 
who  looked,  Douglas  thought,  prettier  than  ever.  She 
had  no  right  to  come  with  the  Stubbles,  so  thought  he, 
and  she  seemed  to  be  out  of  place  with  them. 

A  new  atmosphere  now  pervaded  the  room.  The  feel- 
ing of  harmony  had  vanished,  and  it  was  easy  for  Doug- 
las to  tell  that  this  was  due  to  the  presence  of  Ben 
and  his  sisters.  Their  pride  and  haughtiness  were 
most  apparent,  and  Ben  dominated  the  gathering. 

He  and  Nell  were  partners  in  the  first  dance.  Doug- 
las'  eyes  followed  them  as  they  moved  around  the  room, 
and  in  and  out  among  the  others.  Nell  fascinated  him, 
though  it  was  quite  evident  that  she  was  not  happy. 
There  was  no  light  of  pleasure  in  her  eyes,  and  her 
face  was  unusually  pale.  Though  she  danced  well,  yet 
she  had  the  appearance  of  one  who  was  moving  almost 
mechanically.  This  appealed  to  Douglas  more  than  if 
she  had  shown  a  great  vivacity  of  spirit.  There  was 
something  tragic  about  her  face  and  manner,  which,  in 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  DOOR  109 

fact,  was  almost  akin  to  despair.  What  could  it  be? 
the  player  wondered.  How  he  longed  to  know  the  mys- 
tery surrounding  her  young  life,  and  why  she  was  act- 
ing a  part  for  which  she  evidently  had  no  liking. 

When  the  dance  was  finished,  Nell  came  to  where 
Douglas  was  sitting  and  took  a  chair  by  his  side.  A 
slight  sigh  of  relief  escaped  her  lips,  which  Douglas 
was  not  slow  to  notice. 

1 '  Are  you  tired  ? ' '  he  asked. 

"Very,"  was  the  low  reply.  "I  have  been  working 
hard  all  day,  and  this  dance  is  too  much  for  me." 

"You  dance  well.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  watch 
you." 

"Was  it?"  and  she  looked  at  him  with  large,  grate- 
ful eyes.  "No  one  could  help  dancing  well  with  such 
music.     This  is  something  new  for  you,  is  it  not?" 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"It  is  merely  a  notion  of  mine.  We  have  never 
had  such  playing  here  before." 

"I  suppose  you  know  every  one  here?"  Douglas 
queried,  wishing  to  change  the  subject  of  conversation. 

"Oh,  yes.     I  know  them  quite  well." 

"WTio,  then,  is  that  fine-looking  young  man  just 
across  from  me  with  the  pretty  girl  by  his  side?" 

"That  is  Tom  Morrison,  who,  next  to  Jake  Jukes,  is 
the  best  wrestler  in  the  parish.  The  girl  is  Susie  Ste- 
phenson. They  are  to  be  married  in  September,  so  it  is 
reported. ' ' 

"They  seem  to  be  very  happy  in  each  other's  com- 
pany." 

"They  are  now,"  was  all  the  information  Nell  vouch- 
safed in  reply,  and  then  became  suddenly  silent. 

This  was  the  only  conversation   Douglas  had  with 


110  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Nell  that  evening.  She  was  too  much  in  demand  to 
remain  long  off  the  floor,  tired  though  she  was.  Doug- 
las noticed  that  Ben  did  not  miss  a  dance,  and  that 
whenever  he  came  near  Tom  Morrison  there  was  some 
trouble.  Ben  seemed  to  make  a  special  effort  either  to 
crowd  him  off  the  floor  or  to  interfere  with  his  move- 
ments. Tom  endeavoured  to  keep  out  of  his  way  and  not 
to  make  any  trouble.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  very  an- 
gry, for  his  face  had  lost  its  bright,  sunny  expression 
and  was  dark  and  lowering.  His  habit  of  always  re- 
treating puzzled  Douglas.  "Why  doesn't  he  give  the 
impudent  fellow  warning  to  leave  him  alone  ? ' '  he  asked 
himself.  'I  know  what  I  should  do.  That  cad  deserves 
a  thrashing,  if  ever  any  one  did,  and  I  believe  Tom  could 
do  it  without  any  trouble. " 

During  the  fifth  dance  Ben  again  claimed  Nell  as 
his  partner.  They  had  not  been  long  on  the  floor  when 
Ben  became  suddenly  agitated.  His  face  went  white  as 
death,  and  his  staring  eyes  were  turned  toward  the 
door.  Douglas,  too,  looked,  and  the  surprise  he  re- 
ceived caused  him  to  stop  playing.  There,  looking  in  at 
the  open  door,  was  the  face  of  a  woman.  He  remem- 
bered it  at  once,  for  it  was  the  face  of  the  same  woman 
he  had  rescued  from  the  harbour  at  Long  Wharf.  He 
glanced  toward  Ben,  and  saw  that  he  had  left  Nell  and 
was  moving  slowly  toward  the  door. 

There  was  a  breathless  hush,  now,  in  the  hall,  as  all 
watched  to  see  what  would  happen  next.  The  face  at 
the  door  had  been  withdrawn,  and  as  Ben  passed  out 
into  the  night  Douglas  again  struck  up  the  music,  and 
the  dance  was  continued.  Nell  sat  apart  by  herself. 
Her  face  was  very  pale,  and  her  hands  lying  in  her 
lap  were  clenched  hard  together.    Many  curious  glances 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  DOOR  111 

were  cast  upon  her,  though  she  did  not  appear  to  no- 
tice them. 

Douglas  felt  very  sorry  for  Nell.  He  realised  that 
she  must  be  suffering  greatly.  He  himself  was  more 
excited  than  was  his  wont,  though  outwardly  he  re- 
mained calm  and  went  on  with  his  playing.  Who  could 
the  woman  be?  he  wondered.  She  must  have  followed 
her  false  lover  to  Rixton,  and  had  awaited  the  moment 
when  he  was  dancing  with  Nell  Strong.  From  Ben's 
excitement,  he  surmised  that  the  villain  believed  that 
she  was  dead  and  would  trouble  him  no  longer. 

The  dance  had  just  finished  as  Ben  came  back  into 
the  hall.  He  was  still  pale,  and  his  face  was  some- 
what haggard.  Crossing  the  floor,  he  chose  a  partner 
and  called  out  for  the  music.  As  Douglas  was  in  no 
hurry  to  obey,  Ben  ripped  forth  an  angry  oath  and 
demanded  what  was  the  matter.  Douglas  was  tempted 
to  play  no  more,  but  being  anxious  to  see  how  far  Ben 
would  carry  his  reckless  spirit  which  now  possessed 
him,  he  did  as  he  was  bidden. 

Soon  the  dancers  were  in  full  swing,  among  whom 
were  Tom  Morrison  and  Susie  Stephenson.  Ben  now 
began  to  interfere  with  every  one  on  the  floor,  choos- 
ing out  Tom  and  Susie  for  special  attention.  It  was 
quite  evident  to  Douglas  that  all  tried  to  keep  out  of 
his  way,  but  the  more  they  tried  the  more  Ben  was 
determined  to  produce  a  quarrel.  The  climax  was 
reached  when,  coming  near  a  young  couple,  he  deliber- 
ately surged  against  them  and  sent  the  girl  reeling 
against  the  nearby  wall. 

At  that  instant  the  music  ceased.  Douglas  waited 
for  a  few  seconds  while  all  eyes  were  turned  in  his  di' 
rection. 


112  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"I  shall  not  play  another  note,"  he  calmly  began, 
"unless  Mr.  Stubbles  decides  to  behave  in  a  proper 
manner." 

"What's  that?"  Ben  demanded,  somewhat  surprised 
that  any  one  should  dare  to  rebuke  him. 

"Didn't  you  hear  what  I  said?"  Douglas  asked,  as 
he  laid  aside  his  violin  and  rose  to  his  feet.  ' '  I  said  that 
I  would  not  play  another  note  unless  you  decide  to  be- 
have in  a  proper  manner." 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  have  not  been  be- 
having myself?"  Ben  retorted. 

"I  did  more  than  insinuate.  And  I  say  further 
that  you  have  been  behaving  disgracefully  and  not  at 
all  like  a  gentleman." 

"You  impudent  cur,"  Ben  roared  as  he  stepped  for- 
ward. "How  dare  you  speak  to  me  like  that?  Take 
back  those  words  at  once  or  I'll  make  an  example  of 
you." 

"Come  and  do  it,  then.  I  will  meet  you  half  way," 
and  Douglas  advanced  toward  him  as  he  spoke. 

But  Ben  hesitated.  He  found  himself  in  a  fix,  and 
did  not  know  how  to  get  out  of  the  tangle.  His  bluffs 
had  always  been  effective  in  the  past,  and  no  one  had 
dared  to  oppose  him  simply  because  he  was  Simon  Stub- 
bles' son.  But  here  was  a  man,  a  stranger,  who  looked 
very  big  to  him,  just  then,  standing  before  him  and 
challenging  his  right  to  rule.  Ben  was  no  fighter,  and 
no  one  knew  it  better  than  himself.  He  was  a  coward 
at  heart,  and  his  present  embarrassing  position  un- 
nerved him.  He  glanced  quickly  around  and  seeing 
the  eyes  of  all  riveted  upon  him  made  him  angry.  If 
he  should  back  down,  he  well  knew  that  he  would  be  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  whole  parish. 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  DOOR  113 

"Are  you  going  to  take  back  those  words ?"  he  at 
length  found  voice  to  ask. 

"Not  unless  you  make  me,"  Douglas  calmly  replied. 
"Now  is  your  chance." 

"Do  you  realise  who  I  am?"  Ben  roared,  thinking 
to  intimidate  his  opponent. 

"I  have  a  fairly  good  idea.  But  that  doesn't  make 
any  difference.  It's  you  I  am  dealing  with  now,  and 
not  your  father." 

1 '  But  I  can  drive  you  out  of  this  parish.  I  can  make 
it  so  hot  for  you  that  you  won't  dare  to  stay  here  an- 
other day." 

"H'ni,"  and  Douglas  gave  a  slight  sarcastic  laugh. 
"Why  don't  you  do  it,  then?  Here  is  your  chance. 
Make  it  hot  for  me,  and  let  me  feel  some  of  your  great 
driving  power." 

These  deliberate  and  tantalising  words  stirred  Ben 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  anger.  He  threw  all  discretion 
to  the  winds,  and  raved,  cursed  and  stamped  in  his 
fury. 

"Stop  that,"  Douglas  sternly  ordered,  stepping  for- 
ward and  laying  his  right  hand  firmly  upon  his  shoul- 
der. "If  you  have  no  respect  for  yourself,  have  it  for 
the  ladies  who  are  present." 

Ben 's  only  reply  was  to  throw  aside  the  warning  hand 
and  hit  his  opponent  a  blow  in  the  face.  Like  lightning 
Douglas  suddenly  reached  out,  seized  Ben  in  his  arms, 
lifted  him  bodily  from  the  floor,  and  hurried  with  him 
toward  the  door.  Ben  tore  and  scratched  like  a  wild- 
cat in  his  efforts  to  free  himself.  But  he  was  helpless 
in  the  powerful  grip,  and  soon  he  found  himself  tum- 
bling down  the  steps  leading  to  the  hall. 

Douglas  stood  for  a  few  seconds  at  the  door  looking 


114  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

out  into  the  night.  Then  he  turned  and  walked  slowly 
back  across  the  room,  picked  up  his  violin  and  put  it 
into  its  case. 

''I  think  it  best  to  discontinue  the  dance/ '  he  told 
the  people  who  were  watching  him  with  keenest  inter- 
est. "I  am  in  no  mood  for  playing  any  more  to- 
night." 

As  he  spoke  his  eyes  happened  to  rest  upon  the  Stub- 
bles sisters,  who  were  standing  together  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  hall.  Scorn  and  anger  were  depicted  upon 
their  faces  as  they  glared  upon  him.  It  was  the  elder, 
Miss  Annabel,  who  gave  the  parting  thrust.  She  stepped 
quickly  forward  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  looked 
about  over  the  gathering. 

"When  you  have  another  dance,"  she  began,  "see 
to  it  that  you  ^et  some  one  to  play  who  has  the  in- 
stincts of  a  gentleman.  Pa  will  be  greatly  annoyed 
when  he  hears  how  our  pleasant  evening  has  been  spoiled, 
and  by  an  unknown  farm-hand  at  that."  She  em- 
phasised "farm-hand"  and  cast  a  look  of  withering 
scorn  upon  Douglas. 

The  latter  bowed  slightly  before  this  outburst,  and 
picked  up  his  violin. 

"I  feel  that  all  the  reasonable  ones  here  to-night 
know  quite  well  who  spoiled  the  dance,"  he  replied. 
^ "They  can  judge  for  themselves  who  has  shown  the 
-  want  of  the  instincts  of  a  true  gentleman. ' ' 

Having  said  this,  he  moved  swiftly  toward  the  door 
and  disappeared  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XII 


ASTRAY   ON   THE   HILLS 


LEAVING  the  hall,  Douglas  walked  slowly  up  the 
road.  He  had  partly  expected  to  find  Ben  wait- 
ing outside,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Douglas 
had  not  gone  far,  however,  ere  an  auto  overtook  him 
and  went  by  at  great  speed.  He  knew  very  well  who 
was  the  driver,  though  he  could  not  tell  how  many  were 
in  the  car.  He  smiled  grimly  to  himself  as  he  thought 
of  Ben 's  anger,  and  he  wondered  in  wjjat  way  he  would 
try  to  wreak  a  suitable  revenge.  He  realised  now  that 
the  Stubbles  were  his  principal  opponents  in  the  place, 
and  he  felt  quite  sure  that  they  had  been  the  chief 
cause  of  the  trouble  in  church  affairs  in  the  past.  Why 
did  the  people  allow  them  to  rule  in  such  an  autocratic 
way?  he  asked  himself.  Surely  there  was  some  one 
strong  enough  to  oppose  their  pride  and  impudence. 

It  was  a  beautiful  evening,  and  Douglas  was  in  no 
hurry  to  reach  home.  Several  teams  overtook  him,  and 
as  they  approached,  the  animated  voices  became  stilled. 
All  knew  the  silent  man  walking  alone  in  the  night,  and 
they  waited  until  they  were  well  past  before  resuming 
their  conversation. 

At  length  he  came  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  where  it 
dipped  into  the  valley,  and  here  a  most  glorious  scene 
was  presented  to  his  view.  Beyond,  lay  the  river,  with- 
out a  ripple  disturbing  its  surface.     Above,  shone  the 

115 


116  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

moon,  and  across  the  water  a  stream  of  light  lay  like 
a  path  of  burnished  silver,  leading  to  a  world  of  en- 
chantment beyond.  Douglas'  heart  was  deeply  stirred 
Et  the  sight,  and  he  sat  down  under  a  fir  which  6tood 
on  the  edge  of  a  clump  of  trees,  and  leaned  back 
against  the  trunk.  He  feasted  his  soul  upon  the  mag- 
nificent panorama  before  him.  It  was  just  what  he 
needed  to  dispel  the  miasma  which  had  been  gathering 
around  him  owing  to  his  recent  contact  with  the  Stub- 
bles. The  air,  rich  and  fragrant  with  the  scent  of  new- 
mown  hay,  stimulated  him  like  a  magic  elixir.  Mother 
Nature  was  in  one  of  her  most  gentle  moods,  and  with 
unseen  fingers  soothed  both  heart  and  brain  of  her 
ardent  worshipper. 

Ere  long,  the  sound  of  voices  fell  upon  his  ears, 
causing  him  to  listen  attentively.  Several  people  were 
walking  slowly  along  the  road  discussing  the  incident 
at  the  hall. 

"He's  in  for  it  now,  all  right."  It  was  a  man  who 
spoke. 

"What  can  Ben  do?"  It  was  a  woman  who  asked 
the  question.  "He  was  given  the  chance  to  fight  it  out 
there  and  then,  but  he  acted  like  a  fool." 

"Ha,  ha,  Beji  was  cornered  for  once  to-night.  It 
needed  a  stranger  to  bring  him  to  his  senses." 

"Who  is  that  man,  anyway?  I  liked  the  way  he  be- 
haved, and  his  playing  was  so  nice." 

Douglas  could  not  hear  what  the  man  said  in  reply, 
though  he  longed  to  know.  It  gave  him  a  degree  of 
comfort,  however,  to  feel  that  all  did  not  blame  him 
for  the  disturbance  at  the  hall.  He  knew  how  neces- 
sary it  was  to  win  the  god  will  of  the  people  in  gen- 
eral if  he  expected  to  work  among  them  in  the  future. 


ASTRAY  ON  THE  HILLS  117 

For  some  time  he  sat  there,  and  then  continued  on 
his  way.  He  had  just  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  when 
he  saw  some  one  coming  toward  him.  Soon  he  was  able 
to  recognise  the  form  of  Joe  Benton,  the  shoemaker. 

"You  are  out  late  to-night,"  Douglas  accosted.  "You 
seem  to  be  in  a  great  hurry.    Is  anything  wrong  V 

Joe  came  up  close  and  looked  keenly  into  the  young 
man's  face 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  he  panted.  "Have  you  seen 
anything  of  my  lass?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"No?"  There  was  something  so  pathetic  about  the 
way  that  single  word  was  uttered,  that  Douglas'  heart 
ached  for  the  old  man. 

"When  did  she  leave  home?"  he  asked. 

"Just  after  supper." 

"Oh,  she'll  come  back  all  right,  never  fear." 

"Ah,  but  Jean's  so  changed,"  and  Joe  clutched  Doug- 
las by  the  arm.  "She's  not  what  she  used  to  be.  Be- 
fore she  went  to  the  city  I  had  no  fear  about  her  not 
coming  home  in  proper  time.  But  now  it  is  different. 
There's  something  troubling  the  lass,  and  I  believe  her 
mind  is  affected.     Oh,  it  is  terrible!" 

"Has  she  told  you  anything?" 

"No,  not  a  word.  It's  not  like  Jean.  She  used  to 
tell  us  everything.  She  was  a  child  then;  but  now — • 
Lord  have  mercy  upon  her ! ' ' 

As  Douglas  stood  there  watching  the  heart-broken 
old  man,  a  sudden  idea  flashed  into  his  mind.  Had  he 
really  seen  Jean?  Was  it  her  face  he  had  beheld  at 
the  hall  door?  Yes,  he  felt  almost  certain  that  it  was 
she,  the  same  woman  he  had  rescued  from  the  water  of 
the  harbour.    But  what  should  he  do  ?    Dare  he  tell  Joe 


118  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

all  about  it,  and  how  Ben  Stubbles  had  tried  to  destroy 
her? 

As  he  thought  over  these  things,  the  shoemaker  was 
standing  looking  out  over  the  fields.  Only  by  the  light 
of  the  moon  could  Douglas  see  his  face,  and  he  noticed 
that  it  was  very  haggard.  But  he  could  not  see  the  fire 
of  anger  which  was  kindling  in  his  eyes.  Only  when  the 
bent  form  straightened  itself  with  a  jerk,  and  a  tense 
arm  was  thrust  out,  did  he  fully  realise  the  greatness 
of  his  emotion. 

"My  Jean  is  not  to  blame/'  he  cried.  "She  is  as 
innocent  as  a  child.  Some  villain  has  injured  her,  and 
I  must  find  him.    And  when  I  do " 

"You  will  forgive  him,"  Douglas  added,  as  Joe 
paused  for  lack  of  suitable  words  to  express  his  wrath. 

"Forgive  him!  Why  should  I  forgive  a  man  who  has 
ruined  my  lass?" 

"Because  you  are  so  bidden  by  the  Great  Master." 

Joe  looked  quickly  up  into  his  companion's  face,  and 
his  body  somewhat  relaxed. 

"But  did  he  ever  suffer  like  this?"  he  questioned. 

"Surely  you  know  what  he  endured." 

"Ay,  ay,  I  have  read  it  all.  But  look,  I  could  bear 
all  that  easier  than  this.  I  could  stand  to  have  my  body 
torn  to  pieces  bit  by  bit  rather  than  see  my  darling 
child,  my  baby,  injured.  Was  His  suffering  anything 
like  mine?" 

"  'God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  Be- 
gotten Son,'  "  Douglas  quoted.  "Have  you  forgotten 
what  He  said?" 

Joe  made  no  reply.  A  great  struggle  was  going  on  in 
his  heart  between  right  and  wrong,  and  Douglas  pitied 
him.    Just  then  the  sound  of  some  one  hurrying  across 


ASTRAY  ON  THE  HILLS  119 

the  field  diverted  their  attention.  In  a  moment  Empty 
had  leaped  the  fence  and  stopped  suddenly  before  them. 
He  was  startled  to  see  the  two  men  standing  there,  and 
peered  intently  into  their  faces. 

"Gee!"  he  exclaimed.  "Ye  nearly  jolted  me  to  sliv- 
ers." 

"Empty,  have  you  seen  my  Jean?"  Joe  eagerly  en- 
quired. 

"Sure.  She's  out  on  the  hills.  I  was  jist  hustlin' 
fo  tell  ye."  j 

"On  the  hills!"  Joe  repeated.  "What  is  she  doing 
but  there?" 

"Search  me!  I  don't  know  what  she's  doin'  there, 
an'  I  guess  she  doesn't." 

"W-what  do  you  mean?"  There  was  an  anxious 
note  in  the  old  man's  voice. 

"Well,  she's  been  wanderin'  round  there  fer  some 
time  now,  talkin'  to  herself  strange  like,  an'  singin'. 
She  gives  me  the  shivers,  that's  what  she  does.  It  ain't 
nat'ral  fer  Jean  to  be  actin'  that  way.  Ye'd  better 
come  an'  see  fer  yerself." 

Silently  the  two  men  followed  Empty  across  the  field, 
and  up  the  side  of  a  hill.  At  the  top  was  a  fence,  and 
as  they  came  to  this,  Empty  paused  and  peered  cau- 
tiously through  the  rails,  and  held  up  a  warning  finger. 

"S-s-h,"  he  whispered.  "There  she  is  now.  Ye  kin 
jist  see  her.  She's  comin'  this  way.  Listen;  she's 
singin ' ! " 

TIi is  hill  had  been  used  as  a  sheep  pasture  for  many 
years.  It  was  a  desolate  place,  devoid  of  trees,  and, 
full  of  stones.  Looking  across  this  barren  waste,  Doug- 
las was  soon  able  to  detect  the  form  of  a  woman  sil- 


120  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

houetted  against  the  sky.    Yes,  she  was  singing,  and  he 
was  able  to  recognise  the  words: 

1 '  Truer  love  can  never  be ; 
Will  ye  no  come  back  tome?" 


Joe  could  now  restrain  himself  no  longer.  With  the 
cry  of  ' '  Jean !  Jean ! ' '  he  scrambled  over  the  fence,  and 
made  straight  for  the  advancing  woman.  Empty  was 
about  to  follow,  when  Douglas  laid  a  firm  hand  upon 
his  arm  and  drew  him  back. 

"Don't  go  yet/'  he  ordered.  "It's  better  for  us  to 
keep  out  of  sight  for  a  while.  Her  father  can  do  more 
than  we  can,  and  our  presence  might  frighten  her." 

Joe's  cry  had  startled  Jean  and  she  stopped  singing. 
Seeing  him  coming  toward  her,  she  stood  for  a  few  sec- 
onds watching  him.  Then  she  turned  and  fled  along 
the  path  she  had  recently  travelled,  and  disappeared 
among  the  rocks. 

Then  it  was  that  Douglas  leaped  over  the  fence  and 
hastened  forward,  with  Empty  close  at  his  heels.  For 
a  few  minutes  he  was  guided  by  Joe 's  voice  as  he  called 
to  his  daughter.  Then  all  was  silent,  and  though  he 
and  Empty  searched  long  and  patiently,  they  could  not 
find  the  missing  ones. 

"Well,  I'll  be  jiggered!"  Empty  ejaculated,  as  he  sat 
down  upon  a  rock  to  rest.  "I  can't  make  out  what  has 
happened  to  'em.  Guess  it's  not  much  use  huntin'  any 
more.  We'd  better  go  home  now  an'  git  somethin'  to 
eat.     I'm  most  starved." 

Douglas  realised  that  it  would  be  useless  to  search  any 
longer  just  then.     He  would  go  with  Empty,  wait  at 


ASTRAY  ON  THE  HILLS  121 

his  place  until  daybreak,  and  then  return  if  Joe  did 
not  reappear. 

The  house  to  which  Empty  led  him  was  a  humble  one. 
A  woman  was  standing  at  the  door  as  they  approached. 

"Where's  Jean?"  she  enquired. 

"Don't  know,"  Empty  replied.  "She's  out  on  the 
hills  somewheres." 

"What,  ye  didn't  leave  the  poor  girl  there  all  alone, 
did  ye?" 

"Oh,  her  dad's  with  her,  an'  I  guess  he'll  round  her 
up  all  right.  I'm  most  starved,  ma.  Got  anything 
good?" 

Mrs.  Dempster  was  a  bright,  active,  talkative  lit- 
tle body,  and  she  bade  Douglas  a  hearty  welcome. 

"So  ye'r  the  great  wrestler,  are  ye?"  she  asked,  as 
she  offered  her  visitor  a  chair,  and  then  hustled  about 
to  get  some  food.  "Empty  has  told  me  all  about  ye, 
an'  how  ye  defended  him  aginst  Jake.  It  was  mighty 
good  of  ye,  an'  sez  I  to  Empty,  sez  I,  'bring  that  man 
home  with  ye  some  time,  so  I  kin  thank  him  fer  his 
kindness  to  a  poor  fatherless  boy.'  " 

"I  didn't  do  much,  I  assure  you,"  Douglas  replied. 
"I  don't  believe  Jake  would  have  hurt  him." 

"No,  Jake  wouldn't  really  mean  to  hurt  him,  that's 
true.  But  ye  see,  he's  so  big  an'  strong  that  what  he 
might  think  was  a  little  love  tap  alongside  of  the  head 
would  knock  an  ox  down.  He  doesn't  intend  to  hurt. 
But  when  Si  Stubbles  hits,  he  means  it,  an'  so  does 
Ben.  My,  I'm  mighty  glad  ye  did  up  that  skunk  to- 
night.   He  deserved  it  all  right." 

"So  you've  heard  about  that  already?"  Douglas 
asked  in  surprise. 

Mrs.  Dempster  poured  a  cup  of  hot  tea,  brought  forth 


122  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

a  plate  of  frosted  doughnuts,  and  bade  Douglas  "draw 
up  an*  have  a  bite."  When  her  visitor  had  been  served, 
she  sat  down  on  a  chair  by  the  side  of  the  table. 

"Ye  seem  surprised  that  I  know  about  that  racket 
at  the  hall,"  she  began.  "Empty  was  watchin'  at  the 
door,  an'  saw  it  all.  He  was  hustlin'  home  by  the 
short-cut  across  the  hills  to  tell  me  the  news  when  he 
heard  Jean  singin\  Say,  I  admire  ye'r  pluck.  But  ye 
must  be  keerful,  sir." 

"Why?" 

"  It 's  always  necessary  to  be  keerful  when  ye  'r  dealin ' 
with  skunks.  Ye  jist  never  know  what  they're  goin' 
to  do  next. ' ' 

1 |  But  why  do  the  people  put  up  with  such  creatures  1 ' ' 
Douglas  laughingly  enquired. 

"Because  they  can't  get  rid  of  'em,  that's  why.  Me 
an'  Empty  have  always  stood  on  our  indignity,  an'  it's 
a  mighty  good  stool  to  stand  on.  We  don't  have  to  de- 
pend on  the  Stubbles  fer  a  livin'.  We  have  our  little 
farm,  our  cow,  pig,  an'  hens.  Empty  ketches  enough 
fish  to  do  us,  an'  he  always  gits  a  deer  or  two  in  the 
fall,  an'  that  is  all  the  meat  we  want.  We  pick  an* 
sell  a  good  many  berries,  an'  what  eggs  an'  butter  we 
kin  spare.  Mark  my  words,  there's  somethin'  wrong 
with  a  place  when  all  the  people  have  to  bow  down  to 
any  one  man,  'specially  when  it 's  a  critter  like  Si  Stub- 
bles. I  git  terribly  irrigated  when  I  think  of  the  way 
that  man  is  allowed  to  rule  this  parish." 

"He  rules  in  Church  matters,  too,  I  understand," 
Douglas  remarked. 

"Ye've  hit  the  nail  right  on  the  head,  sir.  It  was 
him  that  druv  our  last  two  parsons  out  of  the  parish 
an'  almost  out  of  their  minds,  too." 


ASTRAY  ON  THE  HILLS  123 

"Did  all  side  with  Mr.  Stubbles ?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  all.  There  were  a  few  who  stood  at  his 
back,  sich  as  the  Bentons,  an'  me  an'  Empty.  Nellie 
Strong,  God  bless  her,  an'  Nan,  her  sister,  didn't  go 
agin  'em,  but  they  were  in  a  difficult  persition  with  that 
cranky  father  of  theirs." 

"Would  Church  matters  have  gone  on  smoothly  but 
for  the  Stubbles?"  Douglas  asked. 

"They  always  did  before  Si  an'  his  brood  came  to 
this  place.  Even  supposin'  the  parsons  weren't  up  to 
the  mark,  we  would  have  got  along  all  right.  Country 
people,  as  a  rule,  are  not  hard  to  please,  an'  will  put 
up  with  most  anythin'." 

There  were  many  questions  Douglas  wished  to  ask  this 
entertaining  woman,  but  just  then  a  noise  was  heard 
outside,  and  at  once  the  door  was  pushed  open  and  the 
shoe-maker  entered.  His  hat  was  gone,  his  clothes  were 
torn,  and  his  hands  and  face  were  bleeding.  He  stood 
near  the  door  trembling  in  every  limb,  and  looking  ap- 
pealingly  into  the  faces  of  those  before  him. 

"Fer  the  love  of  heavens,  Joe!  what's  the  matter 
with  ye?"  Mrs.  Dempster  exclaimed,  as  she  rose  to  her 
feet  and  gave  the  old  man  her  chair.  "Have  ye  been 
fightin'?" 

Joe's  lips  moved,  but  a  groan  was  the  only  sound 
he  uttered,  as  he  crouched  there,  the  picture  of  abject 
misery. 

"Where's  Jean?"  Mrs.  Dempster  demanded,  laying 
her  right  hand  kindly  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Gone!  Gone!"  was  the  low  despairing  reply. 

"Couldn't  ye  find  her?" 

"See,"  and  the  old  man  pointed  to  his  torn  clothes 
and  bleeding  hands.     "I  followed  her  over  the  rocks 


124  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

and  through  the  bushes.  I  was  too  slow  and  fell  so 
often  that  she  got  away.  Oh,  my  Jean,  my  little  lass! 
She  doesn't  know  her  father  any  more;  she  wouldn't 
listen  to  his  voice  calling  to  her." 

"You  poor  man,"  and  Mrs.  Dempster  wiped  her  eyes 
with  the  corner  of  her  apron.  "You  are  tired  out,  and 
must  have  a  cup  of  tea  an*  somethin'  to  eat.  Then 
you  must  go  right  home  an'  git  some  rest.  Me  an' 
Empty  will  find  Jean  as  soon  as  it  gits  light.  The 
dear  child,  she  used  to  come  here  so  often,  an'  her  an' 
Empty  were  great  playmates." 

The  rest  and  the  food  strengthened  the  weary  man, 
and  Mrs.  Dempster's  hearty  manner  cheered  him.  When 
he  at  length  arose  to  go,  Douglas  offered  to  accompany 
him,  and  together  the  two  passed  out  into  the  morning 
air. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NOTICE  TO  QUIT 

THE  shoe-maker  was  very  tired,  and  he  leaned 
heavily  on  the  arm  of  his  companion  all  the  way 
up  the  road.  He  did  not  speak,  and  Douglas  made  no 
effort  to  start  a  conversation.  Reaching  home,  Joe 
opened  the  door  of  his  shop  and  entered.  Douglas  was 
about  to  bid  him  good-bye  when  the  old  man  asked  him 
to  come  in  for  a  few  minutes.  Lighting  a  candle,  Joe 
held  it  carefully  before  the  picture  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd. 

"I'm  puzzled  to-night,"  he  began.  "I  never  thought 
of  it  before." 

"What  is  it?"  Douglas  questioned. 

"You  see  that  lamb?" 

"Yes." 

"It's  in  danger,  isn't  it?" 

"It  certainly  is." 

"And  it  wants  to  be  helped,  and  saved?  See  how 
its  head  is  raised,  and  it  seems  so  glad  that  the  Shep- 
herd has  come  to  rescue  it." 

"Is  there  anything  puzzling  about  that?" 

"Ah,  but  suppose  that  lamb  didn't  want  to  be  helped, 
and  held  back,  no  matter  how  hard  the  Shepherd 
pleaded,  what  then?" 

"He  was  strong  enough  to  lift  it  up  bodily  and  carry 
it  back  to  the  fold,  was  He  not?" 

125 


126  THE  UNKNOWN  WHESTLER 

"Ay,  ay,  I  have  no  doubt  about  His  strength.  But 
I  don't  believe  He  would  have  done  it.  He  would  not 
have  saved  it  against  its  will.  He  didn't  want  a  re- 
bellious lamb  in  His  fold." 

Joe  lowered  the  candle  and  placed  it  upon  a  shelf. 
Then  he  looked  intently  into  his  companion's  face. 

"Jean  doesn't  want  to  come  back,"  he  whispered. 
"She's  not  like  that  lamb,"  and  he  jerked  his  thumb 
toward  the  picture. 

"Perhaps  she  will  change  her  mind,"  Douglas  sug- 
gested. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  was  the  eager  question. 

"Let  us  hope  so,  at  any  rate.  But,  come,  you  are 
worn  out,  and  must  get  some  sleep.  Trust  your  trouble 
to  the  Good  Shepherd.  He  will  find  some  way  to  bring 
back  your  wandering  lamb." 

Douglas  walked  swiftly  home,  and  obtained  a  little 
sleep  before  the  work  of  the  day  began. 

"Ye  should  have  stayed  in  bed  longer,"  Jake  greeted, 
as  he  joined  him  at  the  barn. 

"That's  not  my  habit  when  there's  work  to  be  done," 
Douglas  replied. 

"But  ye  did  an  extry  piece  of  work  last  night, 
though.  Great  punkins!  how  I'd  like  to  'ave  been 
there." 

"So  you  have  heard  about  it  already,  eh?" 

"Sure;  couldn't  keep  a  thing  like  that  a  secret  fer 
two  hours  in  this  place.  Sandy  Morgan,  on  his  way 
to  the  wharf,  stopped  to  tell  me  about  it.  Ho,  ho,  it 
was  great." 

Jake  continued  his  milking,  and  when  he  was  through, 
he  came  to  where  Douglas  was  sitting. 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  127 

"I've  been  thinkinV,  he  began,  "an*  feel  a  bit  un- 
easy about  ye." 

1 '  In  what  way  1 ' '  Douglas  questioned,  looking  up  from 
his  milking. 

"I'm  uneasy  about  what  Si  will  do.  He'll  hear  only 
one  side  of  the  story  from  Ben  an'  the  gals,  an'  they'll 
paint  it  as  black  as  they  kin,  mark  my  word." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  the  whole  gang,"  Douglas  re- 
plied.   "What  can  they  do  to  me?" 

"I  don't  know,"  and  Jake  scratched  his  head  in  per- 
plexity. "But  I  advise  ye  to  be  keerful.  Si's  an  ugly 
brute  when  he  gits  his  dander  up,  an'  it's  ginerally  up 
most  of  the  time." 

Douglas  was  not  left  long  in  doubt  as  to  what  action 
Simon  Stubbles  would  take.  He  was  working  with 
Jake  that  morning  in  the  field  back  of  the  barn  when 
a  man  approached.  He  carried  a  letter  which  he  at 
once  handed  to  Douglas. 

"The  boss  wants  an  answer,"  he  informed  him. 
"He's  in  a  big  hurry  about  it,  too." 

Opening  the  letter,  Douglas  read  the  brief  note,  and 
as  he  did  so  an  amused  expression  overspread  his  face. 
He  studied  it  carefully  for  a  few  minutes  without  mak- 
ing any  comment.  Shoving  it  into  his  pocket,  he  was 
about  to  resume  his  work  when  the  messenger  stopped 
1  him. 

"I  want  ye'r  answer,"  he  said. 

"Tell  your  master  that  I  shall  answer  him  the  first 
time  I  meet  him,"  Douglas  replied. 

"But  Si  will  give  me  hell  if  I  don't  take  more  than 
that,"  the  man  whined.  "He  told  me  to  bring  him  a 
'yes'  or  a  'no'." 

"I  can't  help  that.     If  you're  willing  to  allow  Si 


128  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Stubbles  to  treat  you  like  a  dog,  you  must  put  up  with 
the  consequences." 

Douglas  stood  and  watched  the  messenger  as  he 
slowly  ambled  back  across  the  field. 

"Poor  wretch,"  he  remarked,  "he  is  afraid  to  go 
back  to  his  master.    Who  is  he,  anyway?" 

"Oh,  he's  only  Barney  Tompkins,"  Jake  replied. 
"He's  a  useless  feller,  with  a  big  family.  He  does  odd 
jobs  fer  Si,  runnin'  errands,  sweepin'  the  store,  an'  sich 
like.    He's  got  no  spunk." 

"Like  many  more  in  this  parish,  if  I'm  not  mistaken. 
Si  doesn't  want  any  one  here  who  shows  the  least  sign 
of  spunk.    He's  given  me  notice  to  quit  already." 

"Great  punkins!  ye  don't  say  so!" 

"Yes,  listen  to  this,"  and  Douglas  drew  forth  the 
letter  from  his  pocket  and  began  to  read: 

"John  Handyman, 

Sir : — You  have  made  yourself  very  objectionable 
in  this  place,  so  your  presence  is  not  wanted  here  any 
longer.  I,  therefore,  give  you  notice  to  quit  at  once. 
This  is  a  fair  warning,  and,  unless  you  are  altogether 
a  fool,  you  will  heed  it. 

"Simon  Stubbles." 

It  took  Jake  a  few  seconds  to  grasp  the  full  purport 
of  these  words.  When  he  did  at  last  comprehend  their 
meaning,  his  face  darkened  and  he  stepped  over  to  where 
Douglas  was  standing. 

"Did  Si  Stubbles  write  them  words?"  he  demanded. 

"Yes,  look  for  yourself,"  and  Douglas  handed  him 
the  letter. 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  129" 

Slowly  and  with  difficulty  Jake  read  it  through.  Doug- 
las watched  him  with  considerable  interest. 

*  *  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ? "  he  asked.  ' '  Are  you 
not  afraid  of  losing  your  help?" 

"Damn  Si  Stubbles !"  Jake  roared.  It  was  only  when 
wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  fury  that  Jake  swore, 
and  then  it  was  well  for  his  enemies  to  beware  of  him. 
"No,  I'm  not  afraid  of  losin'  ye,  an'  Si  Stubbles  ain't 
the  man  wot  kin  drive  ye  away,  either.  You  jist  stay 
where  ye  are." 

"I  intend  to,"  Douglas  calmly  replied.  "But  let  us 
get  on  with  our  work." 

Though  outwardly  calm,  the  letter  he  had  received 
rankled  in  his  heart.  The  idea  that  one  man  could  rule 
a  whole  community  was  abhorrent  and  unnatural.  He 
had  no  intention  of  leaving,  and  he  was  determined  to 
meet  Simon  Stubbles  and  have  it  out  with  him  face  to 
face.  Suppose  he  should  be  driven  from  the  parish,  how 
could  he  ever  come  back  again?  How  could  he  return 
as  rector  to  be  the  contempt  and  laughing-stock  of  all? 
No,  he  would  oppose  Stubbles  to  the  bitter  end.  The 
worst  they  could  do  would  be  to  kill  him,  and  he  was  not 
afraid  to  die  if  necessary. 

It  was  near  evening  and  they  were  hauling  in  the  last 
load  of  hay  from  the  field  near  the  road,  when  an  auto, 
bearing  several  men,  sped  past. 

"It's  Ben  bringin'  the  delegation  from  the  station,"! 
Jake  explained,  as  he  watched  the  rapidly  disappearing 
car. 

"What  delegation?"  Douglas  queried. 

"Why,  didn't  I  tell  ye?"  Jake  asked  in  surprise. 
"Well,  I  clean  f ergot  all  about  it.     There's  to  be  a 


130  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

big  Church  meetin'  to-night  in  the  hall.  Si  got  word 
an*  he  sent  notice  all  around.' ' 

"What  is  the  meeting  about?"  Douglas  enquired. 

"It  has  something  to  do  with  the  new  parson  who  is 
coming  so  I  understand." 

"So  you  are  to  get  another  clergyman,  are  you?" 
Douglas  asked  as  indifferently  as  possible. 

"Seems  so.  The  Bishop  has  a  man  all  ready,  who 
will  be  here  in  a  few  weeks.  I  pity  the  poor  feller,  I 
really  do,  though  I  can't  say  I'm  much  set  on  parsons 
6ince  our  experience  with  the  last  ones." 

"You  think  he  will  have  a  hard  time  of  it,  eh?" 

"He's  sure  to,  an'  unless  he's  somethin'  out  of  the 
ordinary,  he'll  be  in  the  same  fix  as  the  others.  He'll 
be  bound  to  buck  up  agin  Si  sooner  or  later,  an*  then 
there'll  be  trouble." 

Douglas  was  greatly  interested  in  what  he  had  just 
heard,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  attend  the  meeting, 
tired  though  he  was.  He  wished  to  hear  and  see  for 
himself  and  not  depend  upon  second-hand  information. 
The  meeting  was  to  be  public,  so  he  had  a  perfect  right 
to  go. 

When  the  chores  were  finished,  he  picked  up  the  pa- 
per which  had  arrived  that  day  from  the  city.  He 
knew  that  the  meeting  would  not  begin  for  some  time, 
and  the  rest  would  do  him  good.  He  glanced  first  at 
the  big  headlines  until  he  reached  one  which  arrested 
his  attention. 

"A  Well  Merited  Honor; 

Dr.  Rannage,  Rector  op 

St.  Margaret's  Church  of  This  City, 

Appointed  Archdeacon  by  his  Bishop." 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  131 

Douglas  studied  these  words  very  carefully,  and  then 
read  the  long  account  of  the  new  archdeacon's  life,  and 
of  the  work  he  had  accomplished  at  St.  Margaret's! 
The  article  was  most  laudatory,  and  spoke  of  his  ability 
as  a  preacher,  an  organiser,  and  a  public-spirited  citi- 
zen. It  referred  to  Dr.  Rannage  as  a  hard  worker,  who 
visited  his  people,  rich  and  poor,  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  doing  all  he  could  for  their  temporal  and  spirit- 
ual welfare. 

With  an  exclamation  of  impatience  and  disgust, 
Douglas  threw  aside  the  paper  and  left  the  house.  He 
knew  that  most  of  the  statements  contained  in  what  he 
had  just  read  were  false.  The  honor  was  not  "  well- 
merited,'  '  but  had  been  bestowed  simply  because  Dr. 
Rannage  was  rector  of  St.  Margaret's  and  a  special 
friend  of  the  Bishop.  He  smiled  at  the  thought  of  his 
visiting  "his  people,  rich  and  poor  alike,  in  season  and 
out  of  season. ' '  He  knew  for  a  certainty  that  Dr.  Ran- 
nage called  only  upon  a  few  of  the  influential  mem- 
bers of  his  flock,  and  left  his  curate  to  look  after  the 
"temporal  and  spiritual  welfare"  of  all  the  rest.  He 
tried  to  picture  Dr.  Rannage  in  such  a  parish  as  Rix- 
ton,  living  on  a  small  salary,  and  trying  to  keep  the 
Church  life  strong  and  healthy,  at  the  same  time  com- 
bating the  opposing  influence  of  the  Stubbles.  And 
suppose  he  succeeded,  by  doing  an  herculean  work, 
would  he  be  rewarded  in  the  same  manner  as  if  he 
were  rector  of  St.  Margaret's?  He  smiled  grimly  at 
the  mere  suggestion  of  the  idea.  Whoever  heard  of  a 
poor  country  parson  being  singled  out  for  such  an 
honor,  no  matter  how  much  he  might  merit  it? 

Douglas  was  walking  slowly  down  the  road  as  he 
thought  over  these  things.     Several  people  drove  past 


132  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

on  their  way  to  the  hall,  and  he  saw  a  number  of  mon 
walking  on  ahead.  The  sun  was  just  lingering  on  the 
far-off  horizon,  and  he  was  quite  sure  the  meeting  would 
not  begin  for  half  an  hour  at  least.  The  delegates  had 
not  gone  by  yet,  and  so  it  was  not  necessary  for  him 
to  hurry. 

Coming  to  the  road  leading  to  Mrs.  Dempster's,  he 
looked  at  the  little  house  over  in  the  field,  and  won- 
dered if  Jean  had  been  found.  His  notice  to  quit,  the 
news  of  the  Church  meeting,  and  the  announcement 
of  Dr.  Rannage's  elevation  had  so  occupied  his  atten- 
tion that  he  had  little  time  to  think  over  the  events 
of  the  past  night.  But  now  he  thought  of  the  heart- 
broken shoemaker,  and  a  desire  came  upon  him  to  know 
if  anything  had  been  heard  of  the  wayward  daughter. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SETTLING  THINGS 

THE  hall  at  the  Corner  presented  a  far  different 
appearance  from  the  previous  evening1.  There 
was  a  large  attendance,  for  much  interest  was  aroused 
over  the  announcement  that  a  new  clergyman  was  to 
come  to  the  parish.  As  Douglas  slipped  into  a  back 
seat  with  several  others  who  were  somewhat  late,  he 
glanced  toward  the  platform,  and  great  was  his  aston- 
ishment to  see  Dr.  Rannage,  the  new  archdeacon,  sit- 
ting there.  A  sudden  fear  seized  him  that  he  might 
be  recognised,  and  his  plans  spoiled.  He  was  glad  that 
he  was  so  far  back  where  the  light  was  dim,  and  that 
he  would  hardly  be  noticed  from  the  platform. 

Simon  Stubbles  was  chairman,  and  he  had  called  the 
meeting  to  order  before  Douglas  arrived.  He  was  mak- 
ing a  few  opening  remarks,  and  was  in  an  excellent 
frame  of  mind,  and  inclined  to  be  somewhat  jocular. 
He  realised  the  importance  of  having  an  archdeacon 
present,  and  referred  to  it  several  times.  To  Douglas, 
he  seemed  most  ridiculous  as  he  stood  there  endeavour- 
ing to  be  as  pompous  as  possible  that  all  might  be 
properly  impressed. 

"I  have  been  greatly  concerned  about  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  this  parish/ '  he  was  saying.  "It  is  really 
a  disaster  that  we  have  had  no  rector  for  a  long  time. 
It  is,  therefore,  with  great  satisfaction  that  news  has 

133 


134  TIIE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

reached  us  that  the  Bishop  is  to  send  us  a  clergyman 
in  a  few  weeks.  "We  all  trust  that  he  will  be  a  suitable 
man  and  fall  into  the  ways  of  the  people  here.  So  much 
depends  upon  that,  and  I  feel  sure  that  the  Bishop  has 
had  an  eye  to  our  needs.  He  knows  this  parish,  and  in 
the  goodness  of  his  heart  he  has  sent  this  notable  dele- 
gation to  meet  us  and  discuss  Church  affairs.  It  is 
not  the  first  time  that  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing Dr.  Rannage,  who  has  recently  been  honored,  and 
rightly  so,  by  the  Bishop.  I  know  you  are  eagerly  wait- 
ing to  hear  what  he  has  to  say  about  the  parson  who 
is  coming  to  us.  I  have  much  pleasure  in  introducing 
to  you  the  first  speaker  of  the  evening,  the  Venerable 
Archdeacon  Rannage  of  St.  Margaret's  Church." 

Dr.  Rannage  rose  slowly  to  his  feet  and  stood  before 
the  assembled  people.  Physically,  he  was  an  impressive 
looking  man,  especially  so  with  his  long  black  clerical 
coat,  and  official  gaiters.  If  only  a  different  head 
adorned  his  well-built  body,  everything  would  have  been 
in  proportion.  But  as  Douglas  studied  him,  he  noted 
what  a  weak  chin  he  possessed,  how  the  bump  of  con- 
ceit was  largely  developed,  and  how  low  and  receding 
his  forehead,  over  which  a  thin  crop  of  hair  was  care- 
fully parted  in  the  middle.  But  he  had  the  gift  of 
speech,  and  if  he  merely  said  "Two  and  two  are  four" 
it  was  uttered  in  such  a  manner  as  to  seem  like  a  great 
piece  of  news,  and  made  people  wonder  at  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  man. 

"Dear  friends,"  he  began,  looking  impressively 
around  the  hall,  "I  feel  that  I  am  no  stranger  to  most 
of  you  here.  Some  of  you,  no  doubt,  have  been  at  St. 
Margaret's,  and  have  seen  or  met  me  there.  But  if 
not,  I  feel  that  we  are  now  well  acquainted  after  your 


SETTLING  THINGS  135 

worthy  chairman's  introductory  remarks.  And  let  me 
say  ere  I  go  further,  how  gratified  I  am  to  have  Mr. 
Stubbles  here  to-night,  and  to  find  him  so  interested  in 
the  affairs  of  the  Church  in  this  parish.  It  is  so  en- 
couraging to  meet  a  man  of  Mr.  Stubbles'  ability  and 
influence  ready  and  willing  to  abandon  for  a  time  his 
heavy  business  cares,  and  devote  himself  so  heartily 
to  the  welfare  of  the  community  in  which  he  is  living. 
If  all  will  follow  his  excellent  example,  I  feel  quite 
confident  that  the  Church  work  in  this  parish  will  be 
greatly  blest. 

"Before  I  give  you  my  brief  message  to-night,  per- 
mit me  to  say  that  I  wish  this  meeting  to  be  very  in- 
formal. Do  not  mind  stopping  me  to  ask  any  question 
which  may  occur  to  you,  for  in  that  way  we  shall  be 
able  to  understand  one  another  better." 

Here  Dr.  Rannage  paused,  and  slowly  lifted  a  glass 
of  water  to  his  lips,  after  which  he  produced  a  large 
silk  handkerchief  and  deliberately  wiped  his  mouth. 
When  the  handkerchief  had  been  carefully  stowed  away 
in  the  tail  of  his  long  coat,  he  once  more  looked  over 
the  audience. 

"We  bear  to-night  a  message  from  your  Bishop,"  he 
continued.  "  'In  the  goodness  of  his  heart,'  as  your 
chairman  so  neatly  put  it,  he  thought  it  good  to  send 
us  here  that  we  might  meet  with  you,  and  discuss  pa- 
rochial affairs.  He  has  already  chosen  a  man  well- 
fitted,  we  all  believe,  for  the  work  here." 

"When  will  he  come?"  some  one  asked. 

"That  I  cannot  definitely  say.  He  has  been  working 
hard  for  the  last  two  years,  and  is  now  taking  his  vaca- 
tion.    Tii  i  few  weeks,  I  trust,  he  will  be  with  you." 

"Is  he  married?"  came  the  question  from  the  right. 


136  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"No.  He  has  been  so  devoted  to  his  work  that  he 
lias  not  given  much  thought  to  matrimony,  so  far  as  I 
know.  But  if  all  the  maidens  in  this  parish  are  as 
captivating  as  the  two  I  met  this  afternoon  at  The  Cas- 
tle' '  (here  he  turned  and  bowed  to  the  chairman)  "he 
will  find  it  difficult  to  choose  who  is  the  fairest,  if  he 
should  decide  to  take  to  himself  a  wife." 

Douglas  almost  emitted  an  audible  groan  at  the 
thought  of  the  "two  captivating  maidens  at  The  Cas- 
tle." A  mental  picture  rose  before  him  of  their  thin 
faces,  turned-up  noses,  and  prominent  teeth,  with  their 
sharp  sarcastic  tongues  as  an  additional  horror. 

"It's  lucky  he's  not  married,"  the  man  who  asked 
the  last  question  remarked. 

"Why?"  Dr.  Rannage  quickly  challenged.  "Have 
you  a  daughter  of  your  own  to  enter  the  contest?" 

"No  sir-ree,"  was  the  emphatic  reply,  when  the 
laughter  which  followed  the  archdeacon's  sally  had  sub- 
sided. "I've  got  all  boys,  thank  goodness,  an'  am  not 
interested  that  way.  But  as  the  new  parson  is  not 
married,  we  won't  have  to  bother  fixin'  up  the  rectory. 
It's  in  a  bad  shape  now,  an'  it  will  take  a  lot  to  have 
it  repaired." 

"The  rectory  is  certainly  in  a  disgraceful  condition," 
Dr.  Rannage  assented,  "as  I  saw  myself  this  afternoon. 
Now,  I  wish  to  appeal  to  all  here  to  get  it  repaired  as 
I  soon  as  possible.  The  longer  it  is  neglected,  the  more 
expensive  it  will  be,  and  your  new  rector  may  wish 
to  live  in  it  and  have  a  suitable  housekeeper  to  look 
after  his  welfare." 

"Let  him  board,"  some  one  suggested.  "That'll  be 
tiie  best  way,  an*  we  can  fix  up  the  rectory  when  he 


SETTLING  THINGS  137 

wants  to  get  married.  If  he  takes  all  right  here,  there'll 
be  no  trouble  about  raisin '  the  money." 

"Now  since  you  have  mentioned  money,"  Dr.  Ran- 
nage  smilingly  replied,  "it  is  just  as  well  to  consider 
that  important  matter  first  as  last.  You  are  all  aware 
that  this  parish  is  asked  to  make  up  a  certain  amount 
toward  your  clergyman's  salary,  and  the  Board  of  Mis- 
sions will  pay  the  balance.  Do  you  remember  how  much 
you  raised  in  the  past?"  he  asked,  turning  to  the  chair- 
man. 

"Four  hundred  dollars,"  Stubbles  replied.  "But  it 
was  too  much.  This  is  a  poor  parish,  sir,  and  I  told 
the  Bishop  so  the  last  time  I  saw  him." 

"Well,  he  asked  me  to  find  out  if  you  would  en- 
deavour to  raise  that  amount,  and  perhaps  a  little 
more.  It  always  pleases  him  so  much  when  he  finds 
that  people  are  trying  to  take  the  burden  off  the  city 
churches  and  becoming  more  and  more  self-supporting. 
Now,  do  you  not  think  you  could  raise  four  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  for  the  first  year?" 

"A  great  deal  depends  upon  the  new  parson,"  Stub- 
bles emphatically  replied.  "If  he  takes  well  there  will 
be  little  trouble,  but  if  not,  we  might  as  well  give  up 
at  once.  We  know  that  from  bitter  experience  in  the 
past." 

"Hear,  hear,"  several  called  out.  "You're  right, 
sir." 

"Is  the  new  man  a  good  speaker?"  came  the  query. 
"Much  hangs  on  that." 

Douglas  leaned  suddenly  forward  now,  and  awaited 
the  answer  with  considerable  interest.  He  noted  that 
Dr.  Rannage  hesitated  and  seemed  to  be  groping  for  a 


138  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

suitable  reply.  That  in  itself  was  ominous  and  affected 
the  gathering. 

"You  see,"  he  began,  "I  have  had  little  opportunity 
of  hearing  this  young  man.  Although  he  has  been  my 
curate  for  the  past  two  years,  he  has  spoken  but  a  few 
times  at  St.  Margaret 's.  The  people  there  are  extremely 
particular  and  decidedly  intellectual,  and  so  prefer  to 
listen  to  their  rector." 

It  was  with  considerable  difficulty  that  Douglas  re- 
pressed a  chuckle  at  these  words.  He  knew  very  well 
how  jealous  Dr.  Rannage  was  of  his  own  ability  as  a 
speaker,  and  he  had  always  taken  it  for  granted  that 
the  members  of  St.  Margaret's  would  rather  hear  him 
than  any  one  else,  especially  a  curate.  He  knew  some- 
thing, too,  about  his  views  of  country  people,  as  he 
had  heard  him  speak  about  them  in  no  flattering  man- 
ner on  several  occasions.  To  him  they  were  a  heavy, 
ignorant  lot,  unrefined,  and  only  a  step  removed  from 
the  beasts  of  the  field.  He  had  expected  at  the  outset 
of  his  address  that  he  would  say  something  which  would 
arouse  the  anger  of  the  people  of  Rixton,  and  so  was 
not  surprised  at  his  tactless  remarks.  He  noted  the 
feeling  of  indignation  which  was  pervading  the  room, 
and  the  whispered  conversations  which  were  going  on. 

"So  the  new  parson  was  pitched  out  of  St.  Mar- 
garet's, was  he?"  a  man  questioned. 

"Oh,  no,  not  'pitched  out,'  "  Dr.  Rannage  explained. 
"He  left  of  his  own  accord." 

"Why?"  the  same  voice  asked.  "Couldn't  he  stand 
up  to  the  job?" 

"Not  exactly.  He  was  a  hard  worker,  but  he  found 
it  almost  impossible  to  understand  the  ways,  ah,  how 
shall  I  put  it  ?  of  refined  society.    That  is,  he  could  not 


SETTLING  THINGS  139 

mingle  freely  with  the  social  element  which  is  so  promi- 
nent at  St.  Margaret's.  He  preferred  the  lower  life, 
such  as  is  found  along  the  water-front,  and  in  the  poorer 
sections  of  the  city.    He  was  more  at  home  there. ' ' 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,  that  the  new  parson  will  not  suit 
here,"  the  chairman  announced.  "According  to  your 
words,  he  is  not  a  gentleman,  and  does  not  understand 
the  ways  of  polite  society.  Now,  we  want  a  man  all 
can  respect,  who  understands  his  people,  and  yet  who 
has  the  true  ring  of  a  natural  born  gentleman. " 

"Who  is  he,  anyway?"  a  man  asked.  "Where  did 
he  come  from?" 

"He  was  brought  up  on  a  farm,  and  worked  his  way 
through  college,"  Dr.  Rannage  explained.  "He  under- 
stands country  ways  and  should  suit  very  nicely  here." 

"Why  don't  ye  say  'the  bush'?"  Bill  Simmonds 
shouted.    "Anything  will  suit  us  here." 

The  laugh  which  followed  this  remark  annoyed  Dr. 
Rannage. 

"I  am  almost  inclined  to  believe  you  are  right,"  he 
angrily  retorted. 

"Ye  believe  it  already,  an*  we  know  it." 

"Order!"  the  chairman  sternly  demanded.  "Bill 
Simmonds,  you  had  better  leave  the  hall,  if  you  can't 
behave  yourself." 

"All  right,  sir,"  Bill  acquiesced,  as  he  threw  a  wink 
to  a  man  across  the  aisle  and  settled  back  in  his  seat. 
"I've  got  nuthin'  more  to  say." 

Dr.  Rannage  was  evidently  embarrassed.  He  mopped 
'ace  with  his  handkerchief,  and  took  another  drink 
of  water. 

"I  think  I  have  explained  matters  quite  fully,"  he 
at  last  continued,  "and  perhaps  my  companions  here 


140  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

would  like  to  say  something.  I  trust,  however,  that  you 
will  give  your  new  clergyman  a  fair  trial,  and  do  every- 
thing in  your  power  to  help  him." 

" What's  his  name?"  Tom  Stephens  asked.  "You 
have  never  mentioned  that." 

"It  is  Douglas  Stanton.  He  comes  from  a  good  old 
family,  so  I  understand,  and  his  grandfather  held  an 
important  government  position  in  this  province." 

Dr.  Rannage's  companions  had  very  little  to  say. 
They  were  business  men,  so  they  said,  and  unaccus- 
tomed to  public  speaking.  Each  made  an  appeal  to  the 
people  to  support  the  new  clergyman,  to  repair  the 
rectory,  and  to  give  more  liberally  toward  the  support 
of  the  Church  in  their  parish.  They  were  given  an 
attentive  hearing,  and  when  they  were  through,  the 
chairman  brought  the  meeting  to  a  sudden  close.  Just 
why  he  did  so  Douglas  could  not  understand.  Stub- 
bles '  manner  had  greatly  changed  since  his  opening 
remarks  and  he  seemed  to  be  annoyed  and  irritable. 

Douglas  was  the  first  to  leave  the  building,  and  he 
stood  outside  in  the  shadow  of  the  hall  hoping  to  get  a 
word  with  Stubbles.  As  the  people  passed  him,  he  over- 
heard some  of  their  remarks  which  were  by  no  means 
complimentary. 

"He  made  a  mess  of  it,  he  surely  did,"  a  man  was 
saying.    "What  does  he  know  about  the  country?" 

"Nuthin',"  his  companion  replied.  "What  were 
them  funny  things  he  wore  on  his  legs?  I  would  like 
to  see  him  out  in  the " 

Douglas  could  not  hear  his  closing  words.  But  the 
comments  of  others  were  of  a  similar  nature,  and  he 
realised  that  Dr.  Rannage  had  not  smoothed  the  way 
for  his  coming  to  the  parish  as  rector. 


SETTLING  THINGS  141 

Last  of  all  came  the  delegates,  talking  earnestly  with 
one  another.  He  could  not  hear  what  they  were  say- 
ing, but  judging  from  the  tone  of  their  voices,  they 
were  not  at  all  satisfied  at  the  outcome  of  the  meeting. 

Simon  Stubbles  walked  behind.  He  was  limping  and 
carried  a  cane  in  his  hand.  His  head  was  bent,  and  his 
face  was  turned  to  the  ground  as  if  in  deep  thought. 
Douglas  at  once  stepped  forward  and  touched  him  on 
the  arm.  Stubbles  gave  a  sudden  start  and  looked 
quickly  around. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  he  gasped.  He  did  not  alto- 
gether relish  the  idea  of  meeting  the  man  he  had  ordered 
from  the  parish. 

"Yes,  that's  who  it  is,"  Douglas  replied.  "I  want 
to  have  a  word  with  you." 

"Didn't  you  receive  my  message?"  Stubbles  asked. 

"I  did,  and  I  want  an  explanation." 

"There's  nothing  to  explain.  You  have  made  your- 
self very  obnoxious  here,  and  you  must  get  out." 

"And  suppose  I  do  not  obey?" 

"Then  you  will  have  to  put  up  with  the  conse- 
quences. ' ' 

"That  is  a  pretty  serious  threat.  This  is  a  free 
country,  and  if  anything  should  happen  to  me,  what 
then?  You  might  find  yourself  in  an  awkward  posi- 
tion." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  worrying  about  that.  All  I  ask  you 
to  do  is  to  leave  this  place  at  once.  You've  had  fair 
warning,  and  I  haven't  time  to  argue  with  you  any 
longer. ' ' 

nobles  was  about  to  move  forward,  when  Douglas 
blocked  his  way. 

"Just  stay  where  you  are,"  the  latter  ordered.    "If 


142  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

you  make  any  outcry,  you'll  regret  it.  But  I  won't 
hurt  you  if  you  keep  quiet.  Now  listen  to  me,  Simon 
Stubbles.  You  have  lorded  it  over  the  people  in  this 
parish  too  long  for  their  welfare.  It  is  through  you 
that  the  Church  life  is  dormant  here,  and  no  clergyman 
can  stay  for  any  length  of  time.  You  know  this  to  be 
true,  notwithstanding  j^our  canting  words  in  the  hall 
to-night.  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  and  I  shall  remain 
in  this  parish  as  long  as  I  please.  If  you  interfere  with 
me  in  any  way  it  will  be  at  your  own  peril.  I  have 
given  you  timely  warning,  and  you  may  go." 

Simon  Stubbles  listened  to  these  plain  words  in 
amazement.  He  had  never  been  thus  spoken  to  before, 
and  his  anger  was  intense.  He  began  to  stamp,  rage 
and  denounce  the  man  who  dared  to  speak  to  him  in 
such  an  audacious  manner.  He  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  those  waiting  for  him  in  the  car  some  distance 
off.  Seeing  that  two  men  were  approaching  to  learu 
what  was  the  matter,  Douglas  leaped  aside  and  dis- 
appeared among  the  trees  surrounding  the  halL 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  WET  DAY 

DOUGLAS  was  very  tired  and  slept  soundly  that 
night.  When  he  awoke  next  morning  the  rain 
was  beating  down  upon  the  roof  over  his  head.  It 
sounded  like  music  to  his  ears,  for  it  would  mean  rest 
that  day  from  the  toil  of  the  field.  There  were  several 
things  he  wished  to  do,  and  the  rain  was  just  what  he 
needed.  There  would  be  no  work  in  the  field,  so  he 
would  be  free  to  go  where  he  wished. 

Jake  had  been  at  the  meeting  the  night  before  and 
was  very  talkative. 

"What  happened  to  ye  when  the  meetin'  was  over?'* 
he  enquired,  as  they  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

"Oh,  I  waited  around  a  while  to  watch  the  speakers 
and  the  chairman/ '  Douglas  replied. 

"Did  ye  ever  see  a  real  live  archdeacon  before?" 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  several.* ' 

"Ye  don't  tell!  Well,  that  was  the  first  one  I  ever 
sot  me  eyes  on  one.  But,  say,  what  was  them  things  he 
had  on  his  legs?" 

"Gaiters,  I  think  they  are  called." 

"  H  'm,  the  same  as  the  Bishop  wears,  eh  ?  But  what 
are  they  good  fer?" 

1 '  They  are  a  sign  of  his  position,  I  suppose.  I  really 
know  nothing  more  about  the  matter  than  you  do." 

143 


144  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"But  what's  the  good  of  archdeacons,  anyway?  If 
they're  all  like  the  one  we  saw  last  night,  I  wouldn't 
give  much  fer  the  hull  hunch." 

"They  are  supposed  to  help  the  Bishop,  so  I  under- 
stand." 

"Help  him,  eh?  Well,  I  guess  that  feller  didn't  help 
much  in  settlin'  matters  in  this  parish.  Why,  he  made 
a  mess  of  the  hull  affair." 

"In  what  way?" 

"Why,  don't  ye  rememher  how  riled  he  got  when  he 
was  asked  questions?  He  put  his  foot  in  it,  too,  when 
he  said  that  a  parson  would  do  fer  Rixton  who  iiad 
been  kicked  out  of  St.  Margaret's  in  the  city." 

"He  didn't  really  say  that." 

"No,  not  exactly  in  them  words,  hut  that  was  what 
he  meant,  an'  we  all  took  it  that  way." 

"So  you  think  that  the  archdeacon  made  it  all  the 
harder  for  the  new  clergyman  hy  what  he  said  last 
night,  do  you?"  Douglas  asked. 

"Sure,"  Jake  replied,  as  he  helped  himself  to  an- 
other pancake.  "Didn't  ye  notice  the  feelin'  in  the 
meet  in',  an'  how  Si  changed?  Why,  he  looked  jist  like 
a  thunder  cloud  ahout  to  oust.  I  sartinly  do  pity  the 
new  parson.  He's  goin'  to  have  a  hard  time  of  it,  mark 
my  word." 

1 '  I  had  a  little  talk  with  Stuhbles  after  the  meeting, ' ' 
Douglas  quietly  remarked. 

"Ye  did,  eh?"  and  Jake's  eyes  glowed  with  interest. 
"Was  he  surprised  to  see  ye?" 

"I  believe  so.  He  thought  I  was  going  to  knock  him 
down,  and  he  raved  like  a  madman.  But  I  told  him  a 
few  straight  facts  which  he  is  not  likely  to  forget." 

"Ye  did,  eh?    Bully  fer  you!    But  he  careful,  John. 


A  WET  DAY  145 

Si  won't  fergit  anything,  an'  he'll  come  back  at  ye 
when  ye'r  least  expectin'  him." 

"I  told  him  that  I  am  going  to  stay  right  in  the 
parish,  and  that  he  couldn't  drive  me  out." 

"Good  for  you!"  Mrs.  Jukes  exclaimed.  "I  like 
to  hear  a  man  talk  that  way.  If  the  rest  in  Eixton 
would  do  the  same  Si  would  be  taught  a  lesson  in  a[ 
short  time.  But  they  all  lie  down  and  let  him  walk 
over  them." 

"Ye'r  always  say  in'  that,  Susie,"  Jake  chided.  "Ye 
ought  to  know  by  this  time  what  a  grip  Si  has  on  every- 
thing in  this  parish." 

"Well,  it's  about  time,  then,  that  he  lost  his  grip. 
If  there  was  only  some  one  with  any  backbone  who 
would  go  ahead,  the  rest  would  follow  all  right.  People 
are  getting  sick  and  tired  of  the  Stubbles'  rule." 

''Maybe  the  new  parson 'U  be  that  kind  of  a  man," 
Jake  suggested.    "  'Spose  we  wait  till  he  comes." 

"H'm,"  and  Mrs.  Jukes  tossed  her  head,  "a  great 
chance  he'll  have  to  go  ahead  with  everybody  willing 
to  crawl  before  Si  Stubbles  and  lick  his  boots.  Why, 
just  as  soon  as  Si  snaps  his  finger  all  the  men  dance 
attendance,  and  you  know  it,  Jake  Jukes.  You  do  the 
same  yourself." 

"But  maybe  the  new  parson  might  be  able  to  do 
something,"  Jake  replied,  as  he  mopped  his  forehead 
with  a  big  red  handkerchief.  He  was  feeling  very  hot 
and  uncomfortable  before  his  wife's  attack. 

"He'll  be  very  different,  then,  from  the  last  two  we 
had,"  Mrs.  Jukes  retorted.  "I'm  not  expecting  much 
from  him,  judging  from  the  past." 

Douglas  was  considerably  amused  at  this  conversa- 
tion.   He  wondered  what  Jake  and  his  wife  would  say- 


H6  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

if  they  were  suddenly  told  that  the  "new  parson ,T  was 
before  them.  He  was  finding  the  part  he  was  playing 
more  interesting  every  day.  How  it  would  end,  and 
how  he  would  explain  matters,  he  had  not  the  least 
idea.  He  did  not  worry,  however,  leaving  the  future 
to  take  care  of  itself. 

That  afternoon  Douglas  paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Demp- 
ster. He  wished  to  find  out  for  himself  how  Jean  was 
getting  along,  and  also  to  listen  to  the  widow,  for  he 
enjoyed  hearing  her  talk,  and  her  comments  upon  par- 
ish affairs. 

Mrs.  Dempster  was  cooking  in  the  kitchen,  and  Jean 
was  lying  on  a  sofa  near  the  stove,  to  all  appearance 
asleep. 

"It's  right  glad  I  am  to  see  ye,"  and  Mrs.  Dempster 
placed  a  chair  for  her  visitor  as  she  spoke.  "It's  a 
dull  day  and  not  many  people  stirrin'.  Empty's  gone 
to  his  nets,  so  me  an'  Jean  have  been  havin'  a  quiet 
time  all  by  ourselves." 

"A  busy  time  for  you,  I  see,"  Douglas  replied,  glanc- 
ing toward  the  table.  "Those  pies  look  very  tempt- 
ing." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  makes  me  hustle  all  right  to  fill  Empty. 
I  often  tell  him  he's  well  named,  fer  I  never  saw  any 
one  who  eats  as  much  as  he  does." 

"All  mothers  say  the  same  thing,  don't  they?  Grow- 
ing lads  need  plenty  of  food.  It's  better  to  pay  the 
grocer  than  the  doctor,  isn't  it?" 

Mrs.  Dempster  paused  in  her  work  and  glanced  to- 
ward the  still  form  on  the  sofa. 

"I  guess  she'll  need  the  doctor  before  long,  if  I'm 
not  much  mistaken,"  she  remarked  in  a  low  voice. 
"Poor  child,  she's  had  a  hard  time  of  it  since  she  went 


A  WET  DAY  147 

to  the  city.  Who'd  a  thought  that  bright  an'  happy 
Jean  Benton  would  have  come  to  this?" 

"Is  she  very  sick,  do  you  think ?"  Douglas  asked  as 
he  looked  toward  the  sleeping  woman. 

Airs.  Dempster  did  not  at  once  reply.  She  placed  a 
pie  in  the  oven,  and  then  turned  to  her  visitor. 

"Guess  we'd  better  step  outside  fer  a  minute,"  she 
suggested.    "We  kin  talk  freer  in  the  open  air." 

"There,  that's  better,"  Mrs.  Dempster  panted  as  she 
closed  the  door  behind  her.  "Ye  kin  never  tell  when 
sleeping  people  will  wake  an'  make  matters  uncomfort- 
able. Now,  look  here,  sir,  I  want  ye  to  do  me  a 
favour. ' ' 

"All  right,"  Douglas  assented.    "What  is  it?" 

"I  want  ye  to  ask  Nell  to  come  here  as  soon  as  she 
kin.  There's  somethin'  I  want  to  speak  to  her  about. 
She's  the  only  woman  in  the  place  I  care  to  ask.  She's 
got  more  sense  than  all  the  rest  put  together,  which  is 
sayin'  a  good  deal." 

"When  do  you  want  her  to  come?" 

"Oh,  to-morrow  will  do.  I  don't  want  her  to  come 
over  to-night,  as  it's  wet  an'  the  roads  are  so  muddy. 
Jist  tell  her  to  come  when  she  gits  time." 

"So  you  think  Jean  is  sick?" 

"Yes,  very.  But  she'll  be  sicker  before  she  gits  bet- 
ter, poor  dear.  But  there,  I  must  git  back  to  my  work. 
It  was  good  of  ye  to  come  over." 

Douglas  was  only  too  glad  of  an  excuse  to  visit  the 
Strongs.  It  was  dark  by  the  time  he  reached  the  house, 
as  he  had  been  delayed  owing  to  the  cattle  going  astray 
from  the  pasture.  The  door  was  opened  by  Nan,  who 
gave  a  cry  of  delight  when  she  saw  Douglas  standing 
before  her. 


148  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"My,  you  have  been  a  long  time  coming  to  see  us 
again,' '  she  chided.  "I  have  been  watching  for  you 
every  day." 

It  was  a  pleasant  home-like  scene  which  met  Doug- 
las'  eyes  as  he  entered  the  little  sitting-room.  The  pro- 
fessor was  seated  in  his  big  chair  by  the  side  of  the 
table.  Nell  was  sitting  opposite,  peeling  and  coreing 
apples.  Nan  had  been  reading  to  her  father,  and  the 
book  was  lying  open  on  the  table  where  she  had  hur- 
riedly left  it  upon  the  arrival  of  the  visitor.  Douglas 
received  a  cordial  welcome  from  Nell  and  the  professor. 

"I  hope  I  am  not  interrupting  your  quietness,"  he 
apologised,  as  he  sat  down  near  the  old  man. 

1 1 1  'm  very  glad  you  have  interrupted  the  quietness, ' ' 
Nan  quickly  replied.  "I'm  sick  and  tired  of  Shake- 
speare.   He's  getting  on  my  nerves." 

"Nan,  Nan,  you  must  not  talk  of  the  master  in  that 
way,"  her  father  chided. 

"I  thought  that  you  did  the  reading,"  Douglas  re- 
marked, turning  to  Nell. 

"So  I  do,  as  a  rule,"  was  the  smiling  reply.  "But 
Nan  doesn't  like  peeling  apples,  and  so  she  preferred 
to  read." 

"Ugh!  apples  stain  my  fingers  and  make  them  feel 
horrid,"  Nan  exclaimed  in  disgust.  "I  would  rather 
read  anything — even  Shakespeare." 

"How  is  your  work  getting  on,  sir?"  Douglas  en- 
quired, turning  toward  the  professor. 

"Slowly,  very  slowly,  these  days,"  was  the  reply. 
"There  are  several  points  I  wish  to  think  out  care- 
fully before  I  put  them  in  writing.  But  we  can  talk 
about  such  matters  again.     I  am  eager  now  to  hear 


A  WET  DAY  149 

about  the  Church  meeting  which  was  held  last  night. 
I  suppose  you  were  there  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  wished  to  see  and  hear  the  new  arch- 
deacon, Dr.  Kannage." 

"What,  was  he  there?" 

"Yes,  and  two  other  delegates  with  him." 

"Tell  me  about  the  meeting,  please,"  and  the  pro- 
fessor leaned  back  comfortably  in  his  chair. 

As  briefly  as  possible  Douglas  narrated  the  events  of 
the  meeting.  He  glanced  occasionally  at  Nell,  and  no- 
ticed that  at  times  she  ceased  her  work  to  listen. 

"So  nothing  was  accomplished,  then?"  the  professor 
queried  when  Douglas  finished. 

"Nothing  that  I  could  see,  except  to  make  it  all  the 
harder  for  the  new  clergyman  who  is  coming  here." 

"Oh,  hell  find  it  hard  enough,  all  right,  trust  Si 
Stubbles  for  that.  If  he 's  anything  like  the  last  clergy- 
man we  had,  he'll  soon  give  in.  I'm  afraid  that  he  will 
be  a  man  of  straw  when  it  is  a  man  of  iron  we  need." 

Douglas  smiled  to  himself.  He  was  enjoying  the 
various  comments  he  was  hearing  about  himself,  and 
he  wondered  what  the  professor  and  others  would  think 
if  they  knew  who  he  really  was. 

"A  clergyman  is  supposed  to  be  a  'steward  of  the 
mysteries,'  "  the  old  man  continued.  "Now,  when  I 
think  of  those  words,  I  always  picture  to  myself  a 
mother  standing  before  a  cupboard  with  a  bunch  of 
keys  in  her  hand.  By  her  side  are  several  children 
watching  her  with  intense  interest,  waiting  for  her  to 
open  the  door  and  bring  forth  things  which  are  old, 
such  as  nicely-frosted  doughnuts,  and  things  which  are 
new,  such  as  jelly  and  pie.    That  cupboard  is  a  place 


150  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

of  mystery  to  the  children,  and  the  mother  has  the  key 
to  the  treasure:    Do  you  follow  me?" 

1 '  Certainly, "  Douglas  replied. 

"Well,  then,  that  cupboard  is  the  Bible;  the  clergy- 
man is  the  steward  who  is  supposed  to  have  the  key, 
and  his  people  are  the  children.  They  are  looking  to 
him  to  bring  forth  the  things  new  and  old  for  their 
good.  But  as  far  as  I  can  find,  he  generally  brings 
forth  the  same  old  things  Sunday  after  Sunday  which 
have  become  so  stale  that  people  do  not  care  for  them." 

"Do  all  do  that?"  Douglas  asked,  mentally  going 
over  several  of  his  sermons. 

1 '  Oh,  no,  not  all.  But  the  sermons  I  have  heard  since 
coming  to  this  parish,  and  others  which  have  been  re- 
ported to  me,  have  been  of  that  kind.  There  was  no 
life,  nothing  personal,  and  not  one  new  and  striking 
thought  upon  any  great  subject.  They  were  just  the 
same  old  platitudes  about  the  Fathers,  the  doctrine  of 
the  Church,  the  duty  of  people  to  attend  the  services, 
and  to  give.  There  has  been  no  food  for  longing,  hun- 
gry souls." 

"Such  teaching  is  necessary,  is  it  not?"  Douglas 
queried. 

"I  do  not  deny  that  at  all.  But  it  is  poor  food  to 
satisfy  the  soul,  especially  when  it  is  served  at  every 
meal.  The  trouble  is  that  so  many  young  men  leave 
college  with  stereotyped  ideas.  They  are  parrots  and 
repeat  what  they  have  been  taught,  and  nothing  else." 

Douglas  winced  a  little  at  these  words,  for  he  knew 
how  well  they  applied  to  himself.  But  he  was  begin- 
ning to  see  life  in  a  new  light  since  he  had  become 
plain  John  Handyman. 

"We  need  a  man  who  has  seen  and  experienced  life," 


A  WET  DAY  151 

the  professor  continued,  "and  can  convert  the  great 
thoughts  of  the  Bible  into  living  food  for  hungry, 
troubled  and  tempted  souls.  I  wish  every  clergyman 
would  take  a  page  from  the  life  of  the  little  bee.  Peo- 
ple as  a  rule  think  that  it  gets  the  honey  right  from  the 
flower.  They  are  mistaken.  All  it  gets  is  a  little  sweet 
water.  But  it  takes  that  water,  retires,  adds  something 
to  it  from  itself,  and  by  a  process  of  its  own  makes 
it  into  honey." 

"Isn't  that  funny!"  Nan  exclaimed.  "Why  I  al- 
ways thought  the  bees  carried  the  honey  on  their  legs 
and  scraped  it  off  when  they  got  home.  Didn't  you 
think  so,  Nell?" 

"I  confess  I  did,"  was  the  laughing  reply.  "It 
shows  us  that  we  have  much  to  learn  about  the  common 
things  around  us." 

"Well,  what  the  bee  does,  so  should  the  teacher  of 
the  Word,"  the  professor  resumed.  "He  should  go  to 
the  Bible  as  the  bee  to  the  flower,  and  'read,  mark, 
learn,  and  inwardly  digest.'  Thus,  through  a  process 
of  his  own,  he  is  to  bring  forth  the  real  spiritual  honey 
for  the  benefit  of  hungry  souls." 

"Daddy,  let's  talk  about  something  else,"  Nan  sug- 
gested. "I  am  tired  of  such  deep  subjects.  I  was 
promised  that  I  could  talk  to  Mr.  Handyman  the  next 
time  he  came,  and  there  are  so  many  things  I  want  to 
ask  him." 

Douglas  glanced  at  the  clock  and  was  surprised  to 
find  that  it  was  nearly  nine.  He  rose  at  once  to  his 
feet. 

"I  must  go  now,"  he  remarked.  "It  would  not  do 
for  me  to  keep  you  up  late." 

"That's  always  the  way,"  Nan  pouted. 


152  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Next  time  I  come  we  shall  have  a  long  talk,"  Doug- 
las promised. 

Nell  showed  Douglas  to  the  door.  He  was  glad  of 
this,  as  it  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  deliver  Mrs. 
Dempster's  message. 

"Is  Jean  very  ill?"  Nell  asked. 

"I  am  afraid  so." 

"Well,  I  shall  go  over  to-morrow.  Poor  girl,  she 
has  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  Her  face  was  so  white  at  the 
hall  door.  She  startled  me.  And,  oh,  Mr.  Handyman, 
I  want  to  thank  you  for  the  stand  you  took  that  night." 

"You  don't  blame  me,  then?" 

"Blame  you!     Why,  no." 

"I  am  thankful  for  that.  It  shows  that  all  are  not 
against  me." 

"Only  the  Stubbles  condemn  you.  They  are  very 
angry." 

Nell  paused  suddenly,  as  if  in  deep  thought. 

"Are  you  going  right  home?"  she  presently  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Would  you  mind  taking  something  for  Jake?  It 
is  a  pick-handle  which  we  brought  from  the  wharf  last 
night  in  our  boat.  We  often  bring  things  for  him 
and  he  does  the  same  for  us.  It  is  a  new  one,  and  he 
may  need  it.    It  is  right  there  on  the  verandah." 

Douglas  found  the  stick  and  placed  it  over  his  shoul- 
der, bade  Nell  good-night,  and  plunged  forth  into  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

TWIN  FIRES 

DOUGLAS  walked  slowly  toward  the  main  high- 
way, lost  in  thought.  He  was  much  interested 
in  the  professor's  comments  about  clergymen.  He  knew 
it  was  a  good  tonic  to  hear  such  plain  statements.  But 
he  thought  mostly  about  Nell.  He  had  watched  her 
during  the  time  he  had  been  at  the  house  and  was  more 
deeply  impressed  than  ever.  She  was  so  quiet  and  re- 
served. She  had  never  seemed  so  beautiful  as  she  sat 
by  the  table  with  the  light  from  the  shaded  lamp  fall- 
ing upon  her  face.  He  thought  about  Ben,  and  a  feel- 
ing of  anger  smote  his  heart.  What  right  had  such  a 
cad  to  have  any  claim  over  such  a  woman  as  that?  he 
asked  himself.  And  how  could  she  see  anything  in 
Ben  to  admire  ?  Had  they  met  near  the  old  tree  since 
the  night  of  the  dance?  he  wondered. 

Douglas  was  startled  from  his  musings  by  a  sudden 
noise  to  his  left.  Then,  in  an  instant,  the  forms  of 
two  men  hurled  themselves  upon  him.  A  blow  from  a; 
stick  grazed  his  head  and  made  him  dizzy  for  a  second. 
In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  realised  that  this  was 
some  of  Ben  Stubbles'  mean,  dirty  work,  and  the 
thought  maddened  him.  With  the  pick-handle  he  struck 
vigorously  out,  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  know- 

153 


154  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

ing  that  he  had  settled  one  of  his  assailants,  by  the 
mournful  groans  he  heard.  Only  one  man  was  now  left 
to  deal  with,  and  it  did  not  take  long  to  disarm  him. 
Seeing  that  he  was  alone,  with  his  cudgel  knocked  spin- 
ning from  his  grasp,  he  started  to  run  away.  Douglas, 
however,  sprang  after  him  and  managed  to  seize  him  by 
the  tail  of  his  coat.  To  this  he  held  with  a  bulldog 
grip  while  the  other  struggled  frantically  to  get  away. 
Finding  that  his  efforts  were  in  vain,  and  that  he  was 
in  danger  of  being  caught,  he  slipped  out  of  his  coat, 
leaving  it  in  the  hands  of  his  conqueror,  and  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness. 

"Come  back  and  get  your  coat,,,  Douglas  shouted. 
"You  might  need  it  before  morning." 

Receiving  no  answer,  he  began  to  grope  around  for 
the  other  assailant.  But  no  sign  of  him  could  he  find. 
He  had  evidently  been  able  to  get  away,  and  Douglas 
was  thankful  that  he  had  not  killed  him,  no  matter  how 
much  he  deserved  it. 

"Well,  that  was  a  surprise  party,"  he  muttered. 
"Luckily  for  me  that  Nell  gave  me  that  pick-handle." 
Then  a  sudden  thought  struck  him.  Did  she  suspect 
anything?  Had  she  heard  rumours  as  to  what  Ben 
might  do,  and  so  had  given  him  a  weapon  of  defence? 
He  wondered  about  this  the  rest  of  the  way  home.  In 
fact,  it  pleased  him  to  feel  that  Nell  was  interested  in 
his  welfare. 

Having  reached  his  own  room,  he  examined  his 
trophy  of  victory.  It  was  an  old  coat,  partly  covered 
with  mud.  He  went  through  the  pockets,  and  what  he 
found  in  one  gave  him  much  satisfaction.  It  was  a 
piece  of  paper  with  a  few  brief  instructions  scrawled 
upon  it,  as  follows: 


TWIN  FIRES  155 

"Get  Keezer  and  be  on  hand  to-night.     Bring  your 
sticks  with  you.    Meet  me  at  the  bridge  at  eight  sharp._ 
Ben." 

Douglas  smiled  grimly  to  himself  as  he  read  this 
brief  note.  He  knew  now  that  Ben  had  been  some- 
where around.  No  doubt  he  had  been  peering  through 
the  window  and  watching  him  talking  to  the  professor 
and  his  daughters.  How  he  longed  to  get  a  rap  at  the 
cowardly  cur.  The  pick-handle  would  not  be  necessary ; 
oh,  no,  his  fists  would  be  sufficient.  But  Ben  knew 
enough  to  keep  out  of  the  way  and  let  others  do  his 
dirty  work. 

Douglas  said  nothing  about  the  night  affair  to  the 
Jukes,  as  he  was  not  in  a  talkative  mood.  His  head  was 
quite  sore  where  he  had  been  struck,  and  he  wondered 
about  the  man  who  had  received  the  force  of  the  pick- 
handle.  But  he  could  not  remain  silent  long,  for  Jake 
was  bubbling  over  with  excitement  when  he  returned 
from  the  store  whither  he  had  gone  for  a  barrel  of 
flour.  Dinner  was  waiting  him,  and  he  had  no  time 
to  speak  until  he  had  stabled  the  horses  and  washed 
himself. 

"Say,  John,"  he  began  as  soon  as  he  had  taken  hig 
seat  at  the  table,  "what  were  ye  up  to  last  night?" 

"So  you  have  been  hearing  something,  have  you?" 
Douglas  enquired. 

"Sure  I  have.  Why,  the  hull  place  is  buzzin'  with 
the  news,  an'  Si's  as  mad  as  blazes.  Guess  he's  goin' 
to  have  ye  arrested  right  off." 

"Have  me  arrested!"  Douglas  exclaimed  in  surprise. 
"Why,  what  for?" 

"Fer  waylay  in'  Billy  Keezer  an*  Tom  Oakes  last 


156  THE  UNKNOWN  WKESTLER 

night,  an'  breakin'  their  heads  with  a  stick.  They're 
all  used  up,  an'  Tom  swears  that  you  stole  his  coat." 

Douglas  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed  so 
heartily  that  Jake  and  his  wife  looked  at  him  in  as- 
tonishment. 

"So  Billy  and  Tom  are  sick,  are  they?"  he  chuckled. 
"Well,  I  hope  they  have  learned  a  lesson  and  will  mind 
their  own  affairs  after  this." 

He  then  told  the  story  of  the  fight  the  night  before, 
and  when  he  had  finished  he  went  to  his  room  and 
brought  down  the  captured  coat,  and  read  the  note  he 
had  found  in  the  pocket. 

"Great  punkins!"  Jake  exclaimed,  as  he  hit  the 
table  with  his  fist  and  made  the  dishes  rattle.  "I'm 
mighty  glad  ye've  got  that  letter.  It's  sure  proof  that 
Ben  was  back  of  the  hull  affair.  And  so  ye  knocked 
'em  both  out  with  the  pick-handle,  did  ye?  Bully  fer 
you !  I  wish  ye  'd  got  a  tap  at  Ben  while  ye  was  about 
it." 

"Did  you  see  Billy  and  Tom?"  Douglas  asked. 

"No.  They're  in  bed.  The  doctor's  been  to  see  'em, 
so  I  learned." 

"And  Si  is  going  to  have  me  arrested,  eh?" 

"So  I  heard.     He  was  rampin'  around  like  a  lion." 

"I  wish  he  would,"  Douglas  quietly  remarked.  "It 
would  clear  the  air  somewhat,  and  give  me  a  chance 
to  say  something.  But  Si  will  never  come  out  in  the 
open  like  that,  mark  my  word.  He  and  Ben  are  back 
of  that  attack  last  night,  if  I'm  not  greatly  mistaken, 
and  they  would  not  dare  to  face  an  investigation." 

"You're  right  there,"  Mrs.  Jukes  replied.  "They'll 
do  nothing  now  but  just  wait  for  another  chance.    You 


TWIN  FIRES  157 

had  better  be  careful  how  you  wander  around  alone  at 
night,  especially  near  the  professor's  place." 

' '  Why  ? ' '  Douglas  asked,  noting  the  twinkle  in  her 
eyes. 

"Ben '11  be  getting  jealous,  that's  all.  He'll  have 
another  grudge  against  you,  if  you're  not  careful." 

Douglas  realised  that  what  Mrs.  Jukes  said  was  quite 
true.  Ben  must  have  been  watching  through  the  win- 
dow the  night  he  was  at  the  professor's  house,  and  no 
doubt  jealousy  had  been  added  to  his  hatred.  But  he 
did  not  care,  for  a  new  feeling  had  now  taken  posses- 
sion of  him.  His  heart  burned  within  him  when  he 
thought  of  Ben  meeting  Nell  and  making  love  to  her. 
He  brooded  over  this  all  the  afternoon  as  he  worked  in 
the  field.  Nell,  with  her  simplicity  and  charm  of  man- 
ner, was  ever  before  him.  He  could  not  get  her  out  of 
his  mind,  and  at  times  he  found  himself  looking  across 
the  field  in  the  direction  of  her  home. 

Suddenly  there  came  to  him  the  realisation  that  Nell 
Strong  was  the  one  woman  in  the  whole  world  he 
wanted.  His  heart  cried  out  for  her,  and  the  idea  of 
her  becoming  the  wife  of  Ben  Stubbles  was  almost  more 
than  he  could  endure.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  was  in  love,  and  with  a  beautiful  woman,  who  in 
some  unaccountable  manner  was  bound  to  a  man  who 
was  his  most  bitter  enemy.  Ben  must  not  have  her, 
he  told  himself  over  and  over  again  that  afternoon. 
But  what  was  he  to  do  ?  He  himself  was  merely  a  farm- 
hand in  Nell's  eyes,  and  he  had  not  the  least  reason  to 
believe  that  she  cared  anything  for  him.  Ben,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  the  son  of  the  most  influential  man  in 
the  parish,  and  had  been  making  love  to  her  for  some 
time. 


158  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Had  any  one  told  Douglas  a  month  ago  that  he  would 
be  deep  in  love  after  he  had  been  in  Rixton  a  couple 
of  weeks,  he  would  have  laughed  him  to  scorn.  His 
idea  of  wandering  from  place  to  place  and  living  just 
for  self  had  suddenly  taken  flight.  To  him  life  seemed 
desolate  apart  from  Nell  Strong.  He  could  not  under- 
stand the  feeling,  and  he  did  not  try  to  analyse  it.  It 
was  something  he  had  never  before  experienced.  He 
knew  that  it  had  come  mysteriously  and  subtly,  and 
was  now  possessing  his  entire  being. 

Jake  noted  how  absent  minded  his  assistant  was 
that  afternoon,  and  jokingly  told  him  to  look  out  for 
the  constable. 

"He  may  be  along  any  minute  now,"  he  bantered. 

Douglas  laughed  and  went  on  with  his  work.  He 
was  glad  that  Jake  imagined  it  was  the  thought  of  ar- 
rest which  was  occupying  his  mind.  He  did  not  wish 
any  one  to  have  the  least  idea  of  the  secret  thoughts 
which  were  agitating  his  heart. 

After  the  chores  had  been  done,  Douglas  strolled 
down  to  the  shore.  He  wished  to  be  alone  that  he 
might  think.  It  was  a  beautiful  evening,  and  the  river 
stretched  out  before  him  like  a  great  mirror,  with  not 
a  ripple  disturbing  its  surface.  It  was  a  scene  of  peace, 
and  it  brought  a  quietness  to  his  soul.  A  swim  in  a 
secluded  place  had  refreshed  him,  and  after  he  had 
dressed,  he  sat  for  a  time  upon  the  sandy  beach.  He 
looked  up  and  down  the  shore,  but  no  sign  of  life 
could  he  behold.  The  only  familiar  thing  he  saw  was 
the  old  tree  where  he  had  sat  that  evening  when  he  had 
first  seen  Nell.  He  wondered  if  she  would  be  at  the 
same  place  again  this  evening,  and  if  Ben  would 
meet  her  there.    He  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  spying, 


TWIN  FIRES  159 

but  so  much  was  at  stake  now,  and  he  must  find  out 
if  they  kept  their  tryst  as  formerly.  If  so,  then  it 
would  be  no  use  for  him  to  cherish  any  hope.  He 
might  as  well  banish  Nell  from  his  mind  first  as  last. 

Walking  slowly  along  the  shore,  he  at  length  reached 
the  old  tree  and  sat  down  upon  the  ground  by  its  side 
with  his  eyes  turned  upstream.  From  here  he  could 
see  all  that  might  take  place  before  him,  while  he  him- 
self would  remain  unobserved. 

The  sun  had  now  gone  down  beyond  the  tree  tops, 
and  the  shades  of  night  were  stealing  slowly  over  land 
and  river.  The  air  was  clear,  and  objects  were  easily 
discerned  some  distance  away.  Douglas  had  not  sat 
there  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  when  Nell  ap- 
peared and  stopped  close  to  the  big  tree.  She  stood 
quietly  there,  with  her  right  arm  resting  upon  the  bent 
and  twisted  trunk.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
ground,  and  she  seemed  to  be  in  deep  thought.  Doug- 
las shrank  back  lest  he  might  be  observed.  A  feeling 
of  compunction  smote  his  heart,  and  he  was  tempted 
to  slip  away  among  the  bushes.  What  would  Nell  think 
if  she  knew  that  he  was  spying  upon  her?  he  asked 
himself.  Would  it  not  be  more  manly  for  him  to  go 
forward  and  speak  to  her? 

As  he  was  thinking  of  these  things,  a  man  suddenly 
appeared  from  the  thick  bushes  and  advanced  toward 
the  waiting  woman.  That  it  was  Ben,  Douglas  had 
not  the  least  doubt,  and  his  heart  beat  fast  as  he  watched 
the  two  standing  together.  His  hands  clenched  and  the 
blood  coursed  madly  through  his  veins.  So  she  was 
expecting  Ben,  then,  he  told  himself,  and  no  doubt 
was  pleased  at  his  arrival.  What  use  for  him  to  con- 
sider her  any  longer?     She  had  given  her  heart  and 


160  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

hand  to  that  rascal,  so  that  ended  it.  Surely  she  must 
know  that  he  was  a  downright  villain.  Was  she  play- 
ing a  double  game?  Why  had  she  told  him  only  last 
night,  standing  at  the  door  of  her  house,  that  she  was 
glad  of  the  part  he  had  taken  at  the  hall?  And  yet 
here  she  was  talking  to  the  very  man  he  had  opposed, 
and  perhaps  enjoying  a  lovers'  chat. 

Douglas  was  sorely  puzzled.  He  knew  that  he  should 
go  home,  and  yet  the  two  standing  near  the  tree  fasci- 
nated him.  The  man  seemed  to  be  doing  most  of  the 
talking,  and  Nell  was  plucking  at  the  bark  on  the  tree 
with  nervous  ringers,  so  Douglas  thought.  He  tried  to 
picture  the  expression  on  her  face  and  the  look  in  her 
eyes.  He  could  not  associate  Nell  with  anything  that 
was  mean  and  unwomanly.  There  must  be  some  reason 
for  her  presence  there  with  Ben.  The  thought  gave 
him  some  comfort,  and  he  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 
He  must  not  judge  her  too  harshly  until  he  knew  more. 
Perhaps  she  was  suffering  keenly,  and  would  need  his 
assistance.  He  felt  that  she  was  a  woman  who  would 
greatly  endure  and  remain  silent,  even  though  her 
heart  were  breaking.  He  must  stand  by  and  do  what 
he  could  to  help  her.  Even  though  she  might  never  be 
his,  yet  he  would  be  her  friend  to  the  last  if  she  would 
only  give  him  the  opportunity. 

A  slight  noise  to  the  left  caused  Douglas  to  turn 
his  head,  and  as  he  did  so  he  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse 
of  some  one  moving  swiftly  yet  cautiously  among  the 
bushes.  It  was  a  woman,  and  he  recognised  her  at  once 
as  Jean  Benton.  She  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor 
to  the  left,  but  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  couple 
standing  by  the  old  tree.  She  leaned  forward  as  she 
walked  and  seemed  to  Douglas  like  a  panther  stealing 


TWIN  FIRES  161 

upon  its  prey.  He  could  not  see  her  face,  but  from 
her  intensity  of  action  he  could  easily  imagine  the  pas- 
sion depicted  there,  and  the  fiery  gleam  in  her  eyes. 
A  sudden  thrill  shot  through  his  body  as  he  realised 
the  purpose  of  her  presence.  It  was  mad  jealousy, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it,  and  the  object  was  Nell. 
She  had  alienated  her  lover's  affections,  and  Jean's 
passionate  nature  had  been  aroused.  What  would  she 
do?  he  asked  himself.  What  could  not  a  woman  do 
when  crazed  with  intense  fury? 

Douglas  expected  that  Jean  would  spring  suddenly 
from  among  the  bushes  and  confront  Ben  and  Nell  face 
to  face.  She  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  however,  but 
stopped  when  a  short  distance  away,  crouched  low  to 
the  ground,  and  watched.  Douglas  remained  where  he 
was,  spell-bound.  There  was  nothing  he  could  do,  and 
it  was  not  his  business  to  interfere.  If  he  went  for- 
ward now,  it  would  show  that  he  had  been  spying.  No, 
he  would  wait  and  see  what  the  outcome  of  it  all  would 
be. 

He  did  not  have  to  wait  long,  for  in  a  few  minutes 
Ben  and  Nell  left  the  tree  and  walked  slowly  along  the 
path  leading  to  the  house.  And  after  them  crept  Jean, 
keeping  well  within  the  deep  shadows  of  the  thick 
bushes.  Soon  all  had  disappeared  and  Douglas  was 
left  alone  with  his  thoughts.  He  did  not  at  once  leave 
the  shore,  but  sat  there  thinking  over  what  he  had 
just  witnessed.  Jean  was  jealous  of  Nell,  and  blamed 
her  for  stealing  her  lover.  And  what  of  himself?  Was 
he  not  jealous  of  Ben?  Did  he  not  want  that  beau- 
tiful woman  for  himself?  Yes,  there  were  twin  fires 
burning  in  their  breasts.    But,  oh,  how  different  were 


162  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

their  natures.  Jean's  was  like  a  fiery  volcano,  ready  to 
burst  forth  in  fury  and  destruction.  His  was  more 
moderate,  he  reasoned,  righteous,  temperate,  and  he 
must  see  to  it  that  it  should  be  kept  under  control. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE 

NAN  had  gone  to  the  store  that  morning  for  a  few 
groceries,  and  when  she  returned  she  was  greatly 
excited. 

"Nell,  Nell,"  she  called,  as  she  laid  her  parcels  on 
the  kitchen  table,  "where  are  you?" 

"Here  I  am,"  Nell  replied,  coming  from  the  next 
room.  "What  is  the  matter?  You  are  all  hot  and 
excited." 

"They  are  going  to  arrest  my  musician,  just  think 
of  that!" 

"Arrest  your  musician!  Mr.  Handyman!  Why,  what 
for?" 

"Because  he  hit  Billy  Keezer  and  Tom  Oakes  last 
night  on  the  road.  He  cut  them  up  pretty  badly,  so 
I  heard." 

Nell  looked  at  her  sister  for  a  few  seconds  in  an  effort 
to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  it  all.  Then  the  truth 
flashed  upon  her  mind.  "I  am  so  glad  I  gave  him  that 
pick-handle,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  felt  that  an  at- 
tack would  be  made  upon  him."  To  her  sister,  however, 
she  merely  said, 

"Sit  down,  Nan,  and  tell  me  what  you  have  heard." 

In  a  few  words  Nan  told  her  the  story  that  was  in  cir- 
culation around  the  village.  It  was  the  same  that  Jake 
had  related  to  Douglas. 

163 


164  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"And  is  every  one  blaming  Mr.  Handyman ?"  Nell 
asked  when  Nan  had  finished. 

"Oh,  yes.  And  they  are  saying  what  a  dangerous 
man  he  is,  and  should  be  driven  out  of  the  place.  I 
heard  the  storekeeper  tell  another  man  that  he  stole 
Tom  Oakes'  coat  last  night,  and  that  he  believed  that 
Mr.  Handyman  is  a  noted  thief.' ' 

"Why,  how  did  he  get  Tom's  coat?"  Nell  asked  in 
surprise. 

"No  one  seemed  to  know  for  sure.  But  people  think 
that  he  knocked  Tom  down  and  took  his  coat,  thinking 
there  might  be  money  in  it." 

"Where  did  this  happen,  Nan?" 

"On  the  main  road,  according  to  Billy  and  Tom. 
They  said  that  they  were  walking  quietly  along  when 
they  were  set  upon  by  Mr.  Handyman,  and  knocked 
down  with  a  big  stick.    I  don't  believe  it,  do  you?" 

But  Nell  did  not  answer.  She  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  gazing  thoughtfully  out  of  the  window  which 
faced  the  main  highway. 

"Come  with  me,  Nan,"  she  at  length  ordered.  "Let 
us  go  for  a  short  walk. ' ' 

Somewhat  surprised,  but  asking  no  questions,  Nan 
accompanied  her  sister  out  of  the  house,  through  the 
garden  and  along  the  road  leading  to  the  highway. 
Nell  kept  a  careful  watch  on  both  sides  of  the  road, 
and  when  they  at  last  came  to  the  spot  where  the  fight 
had  taken  place,  she  espied  two  hats  lying  in  the  ditch. 
Near  by  were  two  stout  cudgels. 

"This  is  where  the  fight  took  place,"  Nell  quietly  re- 
marked, as  she  pointed  to  the  hats  and  the  sticks. 
1 '  They  belong  to  Tom  and  Billy,  if  I  am  not  much 
mistaken. ' ' 


CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE  165 

"But  they  said  it  was  on  the  main  road  where  they 
were  attacked,"  Nan  replied. 

1 '  Then  they  must  be  lying.  There  is  the  proof  where 
the  fight  took  place.    And  why  was  it  here  ? ' '  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  do  you?" 

"I  think  I  do.  Billy  and  Tom  were  lying  in  wait 
for  Mr.  Handyman  last  night,  and  attacked  him  as  he 
was  coming  from  our  house." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so?  What  would  they  do  that 
for?" 

"Perhaps  they  were  obeying  orders.  But  we  shall 
find  out  later.  Let  us  take  those  hats  and  sticks  and 
keep  them;  they  may  be  needed  later." 

"Oh,  I  believe  I  know,"  Nan  exclaimed,  now  much 
excited.  "They  are  Si  Stubbles'  men,  and  he  got  them 
to  attack  my  musician.  Wasn't  it  mean  of  him!  And 
then  to  think  that  Billy  and  Tom  would  lie  and  throw 
the  blame  on  an  innocent  man." 

Nell  was  very  quiet  during  the  rest  of  the  day.  She 
went  about  her  work  as  usual,  but  her  mind  was  upon 
other  things.  At  times  she  found  herself  standing  and 
looking  absently  out  of  the  window.  She  felt  quite  sure 
who  was  the  man  responsible  for  the  trouble  the  pre- 
vious night.  Her  face  was  paler  than  it  had  been  for 
some  time  and  an  occasional  nervous  tremor  shook  her 
body.  She  found  herself  mentally  comparing  two  men ; 
one,  mean  and  contemptible,  with  no  apparent  aim  in 
life  but  the  satisfaction  of  self;  the  other,  self-reliant, 
noble,  and  working  for  an  honest  wage.  She  knew  that 
one  was  a  miserable  cad,  while  the  other  was  a  true 
gentleman. 

As  evening  drew  near,  she  became  restless  and  worked 
with  a  feverish  haste  about  the  house  and  at  times  in 


166  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

the  garden.  When  supper  was  over,  she  drew  Nan  out 
upon  the  verandah. 

"Something  is  going  to  happen  to-night/'  she  told 
her,  ' '  and  I  wish  you  would  take  father  to  his  room  and 
read  him  to  sleep." 

"Is  it  that  old  tree  affair  again  to-night?"  Nan 
impatiently  asked. 

"Yes." 

"And  Ben  will  be  there,  I  suppose." 

"I  expect  he  will." 

"Nell,  I  wish  you  would  tell  him  once  and  for  all 
that  you  will  not  have  anything  more  to  do  with  him. 
I  hate  him,  and  so  do  you,  and  you  know  it." 

"Hush,  hush,  Nan.  Do  not  talk  that  way.  Do  as 
I  ask  you  now,  and  perhaps  I  shall  have  something  to 
tell  you  in  the  morning.  You  had  better  go  to  bed 
early,  too." 

Nell  seemed  to  be  very  calm  as  she  walked  slowly 
to  the  shore  and  took  up  her  position  by  the  side  of 
the  tree.  But  her  heart  was  beating  rapidly,  and  her 
courage  almost  forsook  her.  When,  however,  she  saw 
Ben  appear  from  the  bushes,  and  thought  of  his  con- 
temptible work  of  the  previous  evening,  she  became 
strengthened  by  the  spirit  of  anger  which  suddenly 
possessed  her.  He  seemed  to  her  more  like  a  serpent 
than  a  man,  and  she  drew  back  a  step  as  he  approached 
too  near. 

"Surely  you're  not  afraid  of  me,  Nell,"  he  chided, 
noting  her  action. 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  calmly  replied,  "but  I  do 
not  wish  you  to  come  too  close,  that's  all." 

"When  are  you  going  to  stop  this  fooling,  Nell?" 
he  impetuously  asked. 


CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE  167 

"I  am  going  to  stop  it  to-night,  and  at  once,"  and 
she  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes  as  she  spoke. 
"You  have  your  answer." 

He  mistook  her  meaning,  however,  and  reached  out 
impulsively  to  put  his  arms  around  her. 

"Keep  away,"  she  ordered.    "Don't  touch  me." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  Ben  demanded,  shrink- 
ing back  before  her  steadfast  look. 

"I  mean  that  I  am  not  going  to  have  anything  more 
to  do  with  you.  You  can  go  your  way,  and  I  will  go 
mine." 

"But  I  thought  you  cared  for  me,"  the  man  replied 
in  surprise. 

"Haven't  I  told  you  over  and  over  again  that  I  did 
not?  But  you  would  persist  in  coming  here,  neverthe- 
less." 

"Do  you  mean  what  you  say?"  Ben  asked,  while  a 
surly  expression  leaped  into  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  mean  every  word.  You  had  better  go  now, 
as  it  will  be  no  use  for  you  to  say  anything  more." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  before,  Nell?" 

"I  did,  plainer  than  any  words." 

"Yes,  perhaps  you  did.  But  why  didn't  you  speak, 
and  tell  me  so?" 

"There  was  a  reason  which  it  is  not  necessary  for 
me  to  explain." 

"Ah,  I  know  the  reason.  I  see  through  your  little 
game  now.  You  were  using  me  as  a  tool,  that  was  all. 
But,  damn  you,  I'll  get  even  with  you.  That  little 
matter  can  soon  be  attended  to,  and  then  you'll  find 
out  your  mistake." 

Nell's  face  was  very  white  and  strained,  and  with 
difficulty  she  kept  her  outward  calmness.    Had  she  but 


168  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

realised  that  eyes  glowing  with  hatred  and  jealousy 
were  watching  her  from  the  bushes  a  short  distance 
away,  she  would  have  broken  down  completely. 

"I  believe  you  are  capable  of  doing  almost  any- 
thing, Ben,"  she  replied,  "and  accordingly  any  injury 
you  might  do  to  us  and  our  little  home  will  be  no  sur- 
prise. I  am  going  back  to  the  house  now.  It  is  no 
use  for  us  to  talk  any  longer." 

Nell  moved  away  from  the  trees,  hoping  that  Ben 
would  go  back  the  way  he  had  come.  But  she  was 
not  to  get  clear  of  him  so  easily.  He  stepped  quickly 
to  her  side,  and  demanded  what  she  meant  by  the  words 
she  had  just  uttered. 

"Surely  you  must  know,"  she  told  him.  "If  I  had 
the  least  spark  of  affection  for  you,  which  I  did  not 
have,  it  would  have  been  quenched  by  your  action  at 
the  dance  in  the  hall,  and  what  you  did  last  night." 

"Last  night!    What  did  I  do  last  night?" 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  and  I  think  a  great  deal 
better.  One  who  will  hound  on  others  to  attack  a  lone 
man  on  a  dark  night  is  not  worthy  to  be  called  a  man, 
but  should  be  listed  with  the  brutes  of  the  jungle." 

An  oath,  leaped  from  Ben's  lips  and  he  gripped  Nell 
by  the  arm. 

"Who  told  you  that?"  he  growled.  "How  dare  you 
make  such  a  charge  ? ' ' 

"I  dare  make  it  because  I  know  it  is  true.  How  I 
know  it  is  my  own  affair.  Let  go  my  arm  at  once, 
and  don't  you  touch  me  again." 

Nell's  eyes  were  blazing  with  anger  now,  and  Ben 
shrank  back  cowed.  The  serpent  within  him  could  not 
endure  the  righteous  indignation  of  the  pure  and  noble 
woman  before  him.     He  knew  that  what  she  said  was 


CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE  169 

true,  and  it  roused  him  to  an  uncontrollable  pitch  of 
fury. 

"Ah,  I  know  where  you  got  your  information, ' '  he 
twitted.  "I  understand  why  you  won't  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  me.  It's  Jake  Jukes'  hired  man  who 
is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this.  Ah,  I  know.  He's  been 
around  here  with  his  damn  oily  ways.  That's  the 
secret  of  the  whole  thing.  Oh,  I  understand  it  all 
now. ' ' 

"You  think  you  know  more  than  you  do,"  Nell 
quietly  replied.  "Mr.  Handyman  has  told  me  nothing. 
I  have  not  seen  him  since  the  fight." 

"But  you  saw  him  last  night.  He  was  at  your 
house." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? " 

"Oh,  I  know  very  well." 

"You  were  spying  upon  us,  I  suppose,  sneaking 
around  and  looking  in  at  the  window.  Do  you  call  that 
a  manly  thing  to  do?" 

Ben  was  getting  the  worst  of  the  conversation,  and 
he  knew  it. 

"I'll  get  even  with  that  cur,"  he  declared.  "I'll 
show  him  a  thing  or  two. ' ' 

"There,  I  wish  to  hear  no  more  of  such  talk,"  Nell 
replied.  "I  am  going  into  the  house."  She  started 
to  leave,  but  Ben  stopped  her. 

"Just  a  minute  before  you  go,"  he  growled.  "You 
have  thrown  me  over,  and  you  think  you  are  done  with 
me.  But,  remember,  Nell  Strong,  I'm  not  a  man  to 
be  fooled  with.  You'll  regret  this  sooner  than  you 
imagine." 

"Is  that  a  threat?"  she  asked.  "You  are  careless  of 
your  words." 


170  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"You  can  call  it  what  you  like,  I  don't  care.  You 
may  scorn  me  now,  but  my  turn  will  come." 

Waiting  to  hear  no  more,  Nell  left  him,  hurried  into 
the  house  and  closed  the  door.  She  partly  expected 
him  to  follow  her,  so  she  stood  for  a  while  in  the  middle 
of  the  kitchen  listening  with  fast-beating  heart.  After 
she  had  waited  for  several  minutes  and  no  sound  was 
heard  outside,  she  lighted  the  lamp  and  drew  down  the 
blinds.  Then  she  sat  down  upon  a  chair  by  the  side 
of  the  table  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  She 
was  very  tired  and  almost  heartbroken  over  what  had 
just  taken  place.  She  knew  how  vindictive  Ben  would 
be,  and  when  she  thought  of  her  helpless  father  and 
sister  and  what  her  decision  might  mean  to  them,  she 
almost  repented  of  her  action.  But  when  she  thought 
of  Ben  and  what  a  creature  he  really  was,  she  felt  that 
anything  was  better  than  to  be  in  the  least  manner 
connected  with  him.  Let  him  do  his  utmost,  there 
would  still  be  some  way,  surely,  whereby  they  could 
make  a  living. 

She  sat  thus  for  some  time,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as 
if  her  brain  must  burst  from  the  confusion  of  thought. 
She  must  do  something  to  relieve  her  strained  feelings. 
There  was  plenty  to  be  done,  and  she  at  once  began  to 
fold  some  clothes  which  had  been  left  over  from  the 
previous  day's  washing,  and  which  she  had  not  had 
time  to  iron.  Her  fingers  moved  rapidly,  keeping  pace 
with  her  thoughts. 

She  had  been  engaged  at  this  work  but  a  short  time 
when  she  heard  a  step  at  the  door.  Then  there  was  the 
sound  of  some  one  lifting  the  latch.  Could  it  be  Ben 
coming  ?  she  asked  herself.  What  would  she  do  ?  What 
could  she  say  to  him?     As  she  stood  there  hesitating, 


CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE  171 

the  door  slowly  opened,  and  instead  of  Ben,  Jean  Ben- 
ton stood  before  her.  Nell  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief 
when  she  saw  her,  though  the  expression  upon  the  girl's 
face  startled  her. 

"Oh,  Jean!"  she  exclaimed,  "how  you  did  frighten 
me !    Come  and  sit  down,  for  you  look  tired. ' ' 

Jean  made  no  reply  but  stood  there  with  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  Nell's  face.  They  were  wild  eyes,  and  they 
caused  Nell  to  tremble.  Was  Jean  mad?  she  wondered, 
and  what  would  she  do  with  her?  What  did  she  want, 
anyway? 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  she  asked,  not  knowing 
what  else  to  say. 

Jean  took  a  step  or  two  forward,  and  so  fierce  was 
her  look  that  Nell  shrank  back. 

"Jean,  Jean,  what's  the  matter?"  she  demanded. 
"Why  do  you  look  at  me  that  way?" 

Jean  suddenly  lifted  her  right  hand,  and  pointed  her 
forefinger  at  the  trembling  woman  before  her. 

"You  stole  him  from  me,"  she  hissed.  "You  took 
him  away  when  I  needed  him  most.  Ah,  that  is  what 
you  have  done,  and  you  needn't  try  to  deny  it." 

For  an  instant  Nell  was  unable  to  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  Jean's  words.  Then  the  truth  flashed  upon 
her  mind.  The  girl  was  mad  with  jealousy.  She  imag- 
ined that  she  had  stolen  Ben  from  her. 

"Jean,  Jean,  listen  to  me,"  she  pleaded.  "I  haven't 
taken  Ben  from  you,  if  that  is  what  you  mean.  He 
came  to  me  of  his  own  accord,  and  I  have  refused 
to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  him." 

"You  lie!"  the  half-crazed  woman  cried.  "I  saw 
you  together  to-night,  talking  by  the  tree  and  by  the 


172  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

house.  His  arm  was  around  you.  I  saw  it  all,  and 
you  needn't  deny  it." 

"Listen  to  me,"  Nell  ordered,  now  much  annoyed. 
"Won't  you  believe  me?  I  tell  you  I  have  not  taken 
him  from  you.  He  was  with  me  to-night  for  the  last 
time.  I  told  him  to  go  and  never  to  come  back  again. 
Why  do  you  blame  me?  Ben  is  the  one  to  blame.  If 
he  has  deserted  you,  why  don 't  you  go  to  him  ? ' ' 

"He  isn't  to  blame,"  Jean  cried.  "Don't  try  to 
clear  yourself,  Nell  Strong.  You  have  stolen  him,  and 
you  know  it.  But  you  won't  have  him.  He  shall  never 
be  yours." 

Quick  as  a  flash,  Jean  thrust  her  right  hand  into  the 
bosom  of  her  dress,  and  ripped  forth  a  sharp  knife. 
Like  a  tiger  she  sprang  upon  Nell.  Instinctively  the 
latter  stepped  back  and  raised  her  left  arm  to  ward 
off  the  blow,  which  thus  received  the  knife  meant  for 
her  heart.  With  almost  superhuman  effort  Nell  hurled 
her  assailant  from  her,  drew  forth  the  knife  from  the 
quivering  flesh,  and  threw  it  behind  her.  The  blood 
was  streaming  from  her  arm,  but  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  baffled  girl  before  her,  not  knowing  what  she 
might  do  next.  But  the  sight  of  blood  seemed  to  sat- 
isfy Jean.  She  gloated  over  her  deed,  and  with  a 
wild  mocking  laugh,  she  opened  the  door  and  sped 
out  into  the  night. 

With  a  great  effort  Nell  overcame  the  deathly  feeling 
of  faintness  which  came  upon  her.  Quickly  she  locked 
the  door,  and  then  turned  her  attention  to  her  injured 
arm.  The  wound  was  still  bleeding  profusely,  and 
it  was  with  considerable  difficulty  that  she  was  at  length 
able  to  stop  the  flow  of  blood.  The  gash  was  not  as 
deep  as  she  had  first  expected.     The  knife  in  falling 


CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE  173 

had  struck  a  glancing  blow  just  below  the  shoulder  on 
the  outer  part  of  the  arm.  For  this  Nell  was  thank- 
ful, but  she  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  what  her 
assailant  really  intended  to  do. 

"When  the  wound  had  been  carefully  bound  up,  Nell 
sat  down  by  the  side  of  the  table  and  thought  over 
what  had  just  taken  place.  But  for  the  pain  in  her  arm 
she  might  have  considered  it  nothing  more  than  a  ter- 
rible dream.  She  had  never  imagined  that  Jean,  who 
in  the  past  had  been  so  gentle,  good,  and  loving,  could 
be  so  changed.  But  she  knew  that  jealousy  was  the 
cause,  and  jealousy  could  be  as  cruel  as  the  grave. 

After  she  had  burnt  up  the  clothes  with  which  she 
had  staunched  the  wound,  and  wiped  up  the  stains  on 
the  floor,  Nell  went  slowly  up  to  her  own  room.  But 
she  could  not  sleep,  for  the  excitement  through  which 
she  had  recently  passed  caused  her  brain  to  throb  and 
her  head  to  ache.  She  tossed  restlessly  upon  her  bed, 
and  finding  that  she  could  get  no  rest  she  got  up  and 
paced  rapidly  up  and  down  the  room.  At  times  she 
thought  she  would  go  mad  like  Jean,  as  she  recalled 
all  that  had  taken  place.  She  glanced  into  the  mirror, 
and  was  astonished  at  the  haggard  face  which  con- 
fronted her  there.    "What  was  she  to  do? 

Presently  her  eyes  rested  upon  her  mother's  pic- 
ture hanging  on  the  wall.  She  studied  it  lovingly  and 
longingly,  and  then,  "Mother!  Mother !"  burst  from 
her  lips.  "Oh,  I  want  you,  I  want  you!  Come  to  me 
to-night,  and  comfort  me  as  of  old." 

And  as  she  stood  there  her  mother's  parting  words 
came  to  her  mind.  "Nellie,"  she  had  said,  "you  are 
young  and  a  great  responsibility  rests  upon  you.  You 
will  fail  if  you  try  to  bear  it  alone.    There  is  One  to 


174  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Whom  you  can  always  go,  and  He  will  help  you  in  all 
your  troubles. " 

At  once  a  new  light  came  into  her  eyes.  There  was 
One  who  had  promised  to  help.  Why  had  she  forgotten 
Him?  Kneeling  down  by  the  side  of  her  bed,  she 
prayed  as  she  had  never  prayed  before.  And  as  she 
thus  knelt,  a  new  peace  stole  into  her  heart,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  a  divine  presence  pervaded  the 
room,  bringing  a  restful  balm  to  her  weary  body  and 
mind. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SILENT  STRIFE 

DOUGLAS  was  hoeing  corn  on  a  patch  of  ground 
near  the  road.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and  the 
air  was  filled  with  teeming  life  of  bird  and  insect.  But 
the  silent  worker  was  in  no  mood  to  enjoy  the  fair  morn- 
ing. He  was  thinking  deeply  of  what  he  had  witnessed 
down  by  the  river  the  evening  before.  As  far  as  he 
could  tell,  Nell  and  Ben  were  on  most  friendly  terms, 
for  he  knew  nothing  of  the  stormy  scene  which  had 
taken  place  between  them. 

Across  the  road  was  the  rectory,  seeming  more  di- 
lapidated than  ever,  so  he  thought.  Only  yesterday  he 
had  looked  at  it,  and  a  picture  had  come  into  his  mind 
of  the  building  renewed,  the  house  set  to  rights,  and 
Nell  crowning  it  all  by  her  grace  and  beauty.  He  had 
imagined  her  in  the  garden,  among  the  roses,  sweet- 
peas  and  morning-glories,  the  fairest  flower  of  them  all. 
He  knew  just  how  she  would  look,  and  what  a  joy  it 
would  be  to  her  to  tend  the  various  plants.  And  then 
what  a  welcome  she  would  give  him  upon  his  return 
from  some  parish  work.  He  had  dreamed  of  it  all  out 
in  the  field,  and  it  had  made  him  very  happy.  What 
a  success  he  would  make  of  life  with  Nell's  inspiration 
and  helpfulness.  But  now  his  vision  was  shattered,  and 
the  future  looked  dark  and  lonely.  Nell  could  never 
be  his,  and  why  should  he  think  of  her  any  more  ?    She 

175 


176  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

had  given  herself,  no  doubt,  to  Ben  Stubbles  so  that 
ended  it. 

It  seemed  to  Douglas  as  if  everything  he  undertook 
was  a  failure.  He  had  not  succeeded  with  hi?  work  at 
St.  Margaret 's,  and  he  had  become  entangled  in  a  quar- 
rel in  the  very  parish  where  he  was  shortly  expected 
to  come  as  rector,  the  solution  of  which  he  could  not 
see.  Instead  of  bringing  peace  to  troubled  Church 
waters,  and  harmony  out  of  chaos,  he  had  apparently 
made  matters  worse  by  his  interference.  .  Added  to 
this,  he  was  deeply  in  love  with  the  one  woman  he  could 
not  hope  to  win. 

As  he  moved  slowly  up  and  down  the  rows  thinking 
of  these  things,  Empty  appeared  suddenly  before  him. 
The  lad  was  breathing  hard  and  seemed  greatly  agi- 
tated. 

"Hello,  Empty!  what's  wrong ?"  Douglas  enquired, 
pausing  in  his  work. 

"Go  fer  the  doctor,  quick,' '  Empty  panted.  "Jean's 
sick,  very  sick,  an'  ma  sent  me  fer  you.  She  can't 
spare  me  a  minute,  so  I  must  hustle  back.    Will  ye  go  ? ' ' 

"Certainly,"  Douglas  replied.  "But  when  did  Jean 
become  ill?     She  seemed  all  right  last  night." 

"She  took  sick  jist  a  little  while  ago.  Oh,  hurry! 
Don't  waste  time  talkin'.  An',  say,  ye  might  drop 
in  an'  tell  her  dad.    Joe's  very  uneasy  'bout  Jean." 

Douglas  wished  to  ask  Empty  a  number  of  ques- 
tions, but  having  delivered  his  message,  the  lad  left 
him  and  sped  like  a  deer  by  a  short-cut  across  the  field. 
The  telephone  was  at  the  store  and  Douglas  lost  no 
time  in  getting  there.  Several  people  were  standing 
before  the  counter  as  he  entered  the  building,  who  lis- 
tened with  great  interest  as  he  asked  the  store-keeper 


SILENT  STRIFE  177 

for  the  use  of  the  telephone.  Then  as  he  spoke  to  the 
doctor,  requesting  him  to  hurry  at  once  to  Mrs.  Demp- 
ster's,  the  curiosity  of  the  bystanders  became  intense. 
They  would  have  something  to  discuss  among  them- 
selves, and  a  choice  bit  of  gossip  would  soon  be  in  cir- 
culation throughout  the  parish. 

When  Douglas  left  the  store,  he  made  his  way  to  the 
shoemaker's.  He  found  Joe  at  his  bench,  half-soling 
a  pair  of  shoes.  He  greeted  his  visitor  cordially,  and 
offered  him  a  seat  upon  the  only  chair  the  room  con- 
tained. 

"I  haven't  time  to  sit  down  this  morning,"  Douglas 
told  him.  "I  have  just  called  up  the  doctor,  and 
dropped  in  to  see  you  for  a  minute." 

"Called  up  the  doctor!"  Joe  repeated,  while  an  anx- 
ious look  came  into  his  eyes.     "Who's  sick?" 

"It  is  Jean.     She  is  not  very  well." 

"Ah,  I  was  afraid  of  it,"  and  the  old  man  laid  aside 
the  shoe,  and  looked  intently  into  his  visitor's  face. 
1  ■  Poor  lassie,  she  must  have  caught  cold  out  on  the  hills 
that  night.    Is  she  at  Mrs.  Dempster's  yet?" 

"Yes.  Empty  came  for  me  this  morning,  and  he 
had  to  go  right  back." 

"I  must  go  at  once."  Joe  rose  from  the  bench  as 
he  spoke  and  untied  his  leather  apron.  "Jean  may 
need  me  now." 

' '  Would  it  not  be  better  for  your  wife  to  go  ? "  Doug- 
las asked.  "A  woman  can  generally  do  more  in  a  sick 
room  than  a  man." 

Joe  shook  his  head  as  he  carefully  folded  the  apron 
and  laid  it  on  the  bench. 

"No,  she  couldn't  very  well  go.  She  hasn't  been  that 
far  in  a  long  time.    It's  her  foot,  you  see.    It's  been 


178  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

troubling  her  for  years.  Jean  '11  have  to  come  home, 
and  then  she  can  look  after  her.  Just  wait,  I  '11  be  with 
you  in  a  minute/ ' 

As  the  two  walked  along  the  road  there  was  little 
said  for  a  time.  Joe  seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought, 
and  occasionally  he  gave  a  deep  sigh. 

"I  am  thinking,"  he  at  length  remarked,  "that  this 
sickness  will  be  for  Jean's  good.  It  may  be  that  the 
Lord  has  a  hand  in  it,  and  He  will  lead  her  home 
through  the  valley  of  trouble.  He  did  it  in  olden  days, 
and  I  believe  He  does  the  same  now." 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  is  the  matter  with  your 
daughter?"  Douglas  enquired.  "What  do  you  sup- 
pose has  caused  such  a  great  change  in  her  from  what 
she  was  before  she  left  home?" 

"I  have  never  heard,"  Joe  slowly  replied.  "Jean 
would  not  tell  me." 

"But  there  must  have  been  something,  Mr.  Benton. 
It  is  not  natural  for  a  girl  who  was  brought  up  so  care- 
fully to  change  in  such  a  short  time." 

Douglas  knew  the  nature  of  Jean's  illness,  and  he 
was  anxious  that  Joe's  mind  might  be  somewhat  pre- 
pared for  the  shock.  He  felt  that  he  could  do  no  more 
than  give  a  hint. 

"Jean  has  been  working  too  hard,"  the  old  man 
replied.  "She  was  always  a  great  worker,  and  I  think 
she  is  run  down  and  her  mind  is  somewhat  affected. 
She  will  be  all  right  as  soon  as  she  gets  over  this  sick- 
ness. ' ' 

"But  what  about  the  letter  you  received  from  the 
city?"  Douglas  persisted.  "Didn't  it  show  that  there 
must  have  been  something  wrong  there?  She  was  sent 
home  for  repairs,  was  she  not?" 


SILENT  STRIFE  179 

"I  have  thought  it  all  over,  sir,  night  and  day,  and 
we  have  talked  about  it  a  great  deal.  Jean  has  done 
nothing  wrong,  mark  my  word.  I  thought  at  first  that 
perhaps  she  had,  but  I  know  better  now.  Why,  it's 
not  in  that  child  to  do  anything  wrong.  She's  always 
been  as  innocent  as  a  baby.  She  was  led  astray  for  a 
time,   that's   all." 

Douglas  had  not  the  heart  to  say  anything  more. 
He  left  Joe  when  they  came  to  the  corn  patch,  and 
picked  up  his  hoe.  He  stood  and  watched  the  old  man 
ambling  along  the  road,  and  a  feeling  of  deep  pity 
came  into  his  heart.  Why  should  such  a  worthy  man 
have  to  endure  so  much?  he  asked  himself.  He  knew 
the  cause  of  the  trouble,  and  his  thoughts  turned  to  the 
cowardly  cur  who  had  brought  such  misery  upon  the 
humble  home.  It  was  not  right  that  Ben  should  escape, 
and  he  felt  that  something  should  be  done  to  expose 
the  villain.  But  if  he  told  what  he  knew,  who  would 
believe  him?  Ben  would  defy  him  to  produce  evidence 
of  his  dastardly  deed,  and  most  of  the  people  in  the 
place  would  side  with  him.  They  would  say  that  Jake's 
hired  man  had  trumped  up  a  lie  about  Ben  Stubbles 
out  of  mere  spite. 

Douglas  brooded  over  this  during  the  rest  of  the 
morning,  and  as  he  continued  his  work  after  dinner  he 
was  still  thinking  about  it  and  wondering  what  he 
could  do  to  bring  about  Ben 's  deserved  punishment  and 
humiliation.  It  was  galling  to  him  to  see  the  fellow 
strutting  about  and  lording  it  over  everybody. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  happening  to 
glance  down  the  road,  he  was  astonished  to  see  Joe 
walking  slowly  along,  swaying  from  side  to  side,  as  if 
he  were  dizzy  or  had  been  drinking.    Douglas  believed 


180  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

that  something  more  than  usual  was  the  matter,  and 
by  the  time  the  old  man  had  reached  the  corn  patch 
he  was  standing  by  the  side  of  the  road. 

"What  is  wrong?"  he  asked.    "Is  Jean  dead?" 

"Worse  than  dead,"  was  the  low  reply.  "Oh,  if 
she  were  only  dead!  God  help  my  Jean,  my  darling 
Jean!" 

Joe's  face  was  drawn  and  haggard.  His  eyes  were 
red  as  if  they  had  been  rubbed  hard  and  long.  His 
body  trembled  so  violently  that  Douglas  feared  that 
he  might  collapse  where  he  stood. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  he  asked.  "You  must  be 
tired.     Rest  awhile." 

'  ■  Sit  down !  Rest ! ' '  Joe  slowly  repeated,  as  if  he  did 
not  fully  comprehend  the  words.  "How  dare  I  think 
of  rest  with  my  poor  child's  troubles  on  my  mind?" 

He  ceased  and  let  his  eyes  roam  across  the  fields 
toward  the  Dempster  home.  Then  he  straightened  him- 
self up  and  turning  to  his  companion  clutched  him 
fiercely  by  the  arm.  His  lips  moved,  though  no  word 
was  uttered.  But  his  eyes  and  face  said  all  that  was 
necessary.  A  heartbroken  father  was  being  torn  by  a 
wild  passion,  and  what  anger  is  more  terrible  than  that 
caused  by  an  injury  to  an  offspring,  whether  of  man  or 
beast?  Douglas  made  no  effort  to  soothe  the  grief- 
stricken  man.  He  realised  that  the  storm  must  beat 
itself  out,  and  that  words  of  comfort  or  sympathy  would 
be  empty  sounds  falling  on  unheeding  ears.  He  knew 
that  silence  is  never  more  golden  than  in  the  presence 
of  overmastering  grief. 

At  first  he  thought  that  Joe's  passion  was  that  of 
anger  alone  for  the  one  who  had  outraged  his  daugh- 
ter.     But   presently,   he   intuitively   divined   that  the 


SILENT  STRIFE  181 

struggle  was  deeper  than  that.  He  felt  that  it  was  a 
conflict  between  right  and  wrong;  the  desire  of  the 
savage  beast  thirsting  for  revenge,  contending  with  the 
Christ-like  spirit  of  forgiveness.  Now  he  longed  to 
speak,  to  utter  some  word  that  would  decide  the  battle 
for  the  right.  But  never  did  he  feel  so  helpless.  He 
recalled  several  appropriate  texts  of  Scripture,  but  he 
did  not  quote  them.  Why  he  did  not  do  so  he  could 
not  tell.  He  realised  the  importance  of  the  moment, 
and  felt  like  a  coward  for  his  helplessness.  If  the 
beast  nature  should  win,  no  end  of  harm  might  be 
done.    What  should  he  do? 

Presently  an  idea  flashed  into  his  mind.  Why  had 
he  not  thought  of  it  before?  he  asked  himself. 

Taking  Joe  by  the  arm,  he  led  him  from  the  road  to 
a  large  maple  tree  standing  near  the  edge  of  the  field. 

"Sit  down  under  the  shade,"  he  ordered,  "and  wait 
until  I  come  back." 

Joe  at  first  refused,  and  declared  that  he  did  not 
want  to  rest.  But  under  his  companion's  gentle  yet 
firm  urging  he  sank  upon  the  grass  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands. 

Leaving  him  there,  Douglas  hastened  to  the  house. 
In  a  few  minutes  he  returned,  carrying  his  violin.  Joe 
never  looked  up  as  he  approached,  but  remained,  hud- 
dled upon  the  ground,  the  very  epitome  of  abject 
despair. 

At  once  Douglas  began  to  play  strong,  violent  music, 
in  keeping  with  Joe's  feelings.  Each  note  suggested 
a  tempest,  and  as  the  playing  continued,  the  old  man 
lifted  his  head  and  Douglas  noted  the  gleam  in  his 
eyes  and  the  angry  expression  upon  his  face.    At  that 


182  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

moment  he  was  ready  for  action,  for  revenge  dire  and 
swift. 

But  gradually  the  music  changed.  It  became  soft 
and  low.  It  appealed  to  the  better  and  higher  nature. 
It  was  like  the  revivifying  breath  of  spring  after  win- 
ter's sternness,  and  the  sun's  radiant  smile  following 
the  raging  tempest.  It  affected  Joe.  The  light  in  his 
eyes  changed,  and  his  face  softened.  His  body  relaxed. 
Then  the  player  knew  that  the  victory  was  won.  Gently 
he  drifted  off  to  the  old,  familiar  hymns  of  "Nearer 
My  God  to  Thee,"  and  "Abide  with  Me." 

As  the  last  note  died  upon  the  air,  Joe  rose  slowly 
from  the  ground.  He  said  nothing,  but  reaching  out 
he  clasped  Douglas  by  the  hand.  Then  with  head  erect 
and  a  new  light  in  his  eyes,  he  turned  and  made  his 
way  slowly  toward  the  road. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WARMER  THAN  HE  EXPECTED 

JOE  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  up  the  road  when 
Ben  Stubbles  met  him  in  his  ear,  and  enveloped 
him  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  Ben  was  alone  and  he  scowled 
as  the  old  man  stepped  aside  to  let  him  pass.  Douglas, 
who  was  watching,  felt  thankful  that  Joe  was  ignorant 
of  the  driver's  part  in  Jean's  ruin. 

Seeing  Douglas  standing  under  the  tree,  Ben  drew 
up  his  car  and  asked  him  what  he  was  doing  there. 

"Attending  to  my  own  affairs,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"Amusing  the  old  man,  eh?  You  must  have  a  damn 
lot  of  work  to  do  if  you  can  afford  to  waste  your  time 
that  way." 

"That,  too,  is  my  own  affair,  and  not  yours.  Have 
you  anything  more  to  say?" 

"Sure  I  have.  I  want  to  know  what  you  are  doing 
here." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be  here?" 

"But  you  received  orders  to  leave." 

"Who  gave  them?" 

"Dad,  of  course." 

"What  right  had  he  to  order  me  away?" 

"Oh,  he  rules  here." 

"Well,  he  doesn't  rule  me,  and  I  shall  leave  when  I 
get  ready,  and  not  before." 

"You'll  change  your  tune  before  long,  though." 
183 


184  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"I  will,  eh?" 

"Sure.  You'll  find  this  place  so  damn  hot  for  you 
that  you'll  be  glad  to  get  out." 

"H'm,"  and  Douglas  gave  a  sarcastic  laugh.  "You 
have  tried  to  make  it  hot  for  me  already,  so  I  believe. 
How  did  you  succeed?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Ben  demanded. 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do.  You  set  two  men  upon 
me  the  other  night,  as  you  were  too  much  of  a  coward 
to  face  me  yourself.  Now  you  understand  my  meaning. 
If  you  want  to  make  things  hot  for  me,  step  right  out 
here.     Now  is  your  chance." 

"I  wouldn't  foul  my  hands  fighting  a  thing  like 
you,"  Ben  snarled. 

"No,  simply  because  you  know  what  would  happen 
to  you.  You  are  too  cowardly  to  face  a  man,  but  you 
have  no  hesitation  about  ruining  an  innocent  girl,  and 
leaving  her  to  a  miserable  fate." 

At  these  words  Ben  clutched  the  door  of  his  car, 
threw  it  open  and  stepped  quickly  out  upon  the  road. 
His  face  was  livid  with  rage,  and  his  body  was  trem- 
bling. 

"Explain  yourself!"  he  shouted.  "How  dare  you 
make  such  a  charge  ? ' ' 

Douglas  at  once  stepped  across  to  where  Ben  was 
standing,  and  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes. 

"Is  it  necessary  for  me  to  explain?"  he  asked. 
"Surely  you  have  not  forgotten  what  you  did  at  Long 
Wharf  in  the  city?" 

"Do!  What  did  I  do?"  Ben  gasped,  while  his  face 
turned  a  sickly  hue. 

"You  pushed  Jean  Benton  over  the  wharf  into  the 
harbour  and  left  her  to  drown;  that  is  what  you  did." 


WARMER  THAN  HE  EXPECTED  185 

Douglas  spoke  slowly  and  impressively,  and  each 
word  fell  like  a  deadly  blow  upon  the  man  before  him. 
His  face,  pale  a  minute  before,  was  now  like  death. 
He  tried  to  speak  but  the  words  rattled  in  his  throat. 
He  grasped  the  side  of  the  car  for  support,  and  then 
made  an  effort  to  recover  his  composure.  The  perspira- 
tion stood  in  great  beads  on  his  forehead,  and  his  star- 
ing eyes  never  left  the  face  of  his  accuser. 

"I  wish  you  could  see  yourself,''  the  latter  quietly 
remarked.  " You'd  certainly  make  a  great  picture. 
When  you  threatened  to  make  this  place  too  hot  for 
me,  you  didn't  expect  to  feel  very  uncomfortable  that 
way  yourself  in  such  a  short  time,  did  you?" 

"W-who  in  the  devil's  name  are  you?"  Ben  gasped. 

"Oh,  I  don't  pretend  to  be  as  intimate  with  the 
devil  as  you  are,  and  appealing  to  me  in  his  name 
doesn't  do  any  good.  It  makes  no  difference  who  I 
am.  You  know  that  what  I  just  said  is  true,  and  you 
can't  deny  it." 

"But  suppose  I  do  deny  it,  what  then?" 

"H'm,  you  are  talking  nonsense  now.  It's  no  use  for 
you  to  do  any  bluffing.  The  victim  of  your  deviltry 
is  lying  sick  unto  death  at  Mrs.  Dempster's.  You  had 
better  go  to  her  at  once  and  make  what  amends  you 
can  before  it  is  too  late." 

"Ah,  I  know,"  Ben  replied,  regaining  somewhat  his 
former  composure.  "Jean  has  been  stuffing  you  with 
lies.  She's  a  little  vixen,  and  wants  to  get  me  into 
trouble." 

"Look  here,"  and  Douglas'  voice  was  stern  as  he 
spoke.  "Don't  you  begin  anything  like  that.  I  have 
never  spoken  a  word  to  Jean  Benton,  and  as  far  as  I 
know  she  has  never  said  anything  about  your  cowardly 


186  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

deed  to  her.  She  is  as  true  as  steel  in  her  love  for 
you,  and  my  advice  is  for  you  to  act  like  a  man,  go 
to  her,  be  true  to  her,  and  marry  her  as  you  promised 
you  would  that  night  you  hurled  her  into  the  harbour. ' ' 

"You  are  lying,"  Ben  blustered.  "If  Jean  didn't 
tell  you  this  cock-and-bull  yarn,  how  would  you  know 
anything  about  it?" 

"I  am  not  lying,  Ben  Stubbles.  There  were  eyes 
watching  your  every  action  that  night  on  Long  Wharf ; 
there  were  ears  listening  to  what  you  said,  and  but  for 
these  hands  of  mine  Jean  Benton  would  be  dead,  and 
you  would  now  be  arrested  for  murdering  her." 

"You!  You  heard,  and  saw,  and  saved  her!"  Ben 
gasped,  shrinking  back  from  before  the  steady  gaze  of 
his  pitiless  accuser. 

' 1 1  did, ' '  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"Were  you  alone?" 

"Do  you  think  I  could  have  lifted  her  wet  body 
from  the  water  myself?  No,  I  had  help.  But  never 
mind  that  now.  You  go  to  Jean  and  make  love  to  no 
one  else." 

The  strain  through  which  he  had  just  passed  was 
telling  severely  upon  Ben.  He  mopped  his  face  and 
forehead  with  his  handkerchief.  His  sense  of  fear  was 
passing  and  anger  was  taking  its  place.  It  annoyed 
him  to  think  that  he  should  be  thus  cornered  and  af- 
fected by  Jake  Jukes'  hired  man.  Then  his  opponent's 
closing  words  roused  the  fire  in  his  soul,  and  he  turned 
angrily  upon  him. 

"Ah,  I  see  through  your  little  game  now,"  he  cried. 
"You  are  jealous  of  me." 

1  *  Jealous  of  you !    In  what  way  ? ' ' 

"You  want  Nell  Strong,  that's  it.    Ah,  I  understand 


WARMER  THAN  HE  EXPECTED  187 

it  all.  You  want  to  take  her  away  from  me,  don't  you? 
I  suppose  you  have  told  her  this  yarn  about  me,  and 
that  accounts  for  something  that  took  place  last  night. 
You  devil  incarnate!  I'll  get  even  with  you  for  what 
you  have  done!" 

''If  I  were  you  I  would  be  too  ashamed  to  say  any- 
thing more,"  Douglas  calmly  replied.  "I  have  not  told 
Miss  Strong  about  your  cowardly  deed,  though  I  think 
she  should  know  of  it.  It  would  be  an  act  of  mercy  if 
a  word  might  save  her  from  such  a  brute  as  you." 

So  intent  were  the  two  men  upon  what  they  were 
saying,  that  they  did  not  notice  Nell  coming  toward 
them  down  the  road.  She  was  only  a  few  yards  away 
as  Douglas  finished  speaking.  She  heard  the  heated 
words,  but  could  not  understand  their  meaning.  She 
was  hoping  that  she  might  pass  as  quickly  as  possible, 
as  she  did  not  wish  to  have  anything  to  say  to  Ben. 

Douglas,  standing  facing  the  road,  was  the  first  to 
see  her,  and  he  at  once  lifted  his  hat.  He  thought  she 
never  looked  so  beautiful,  clad  as  she  was  in  a  simple 
dress,  and  a  plain  sailor-hat  on  her  head.  She  seemed 
like  an  angel  of  mercy  sent  to  bring  peace  to  their 
strife. 

Ben,  however,  had  no  such  thoughts.  When  he 
turned  and  saw  who  was  approaching,  he  at  once  re- 
called the  previous  evening,  and  what  Nell  had  said 
to  him.  He  was  glad,  too,  of  any  excuse  to  get  away 
from  his  opponent  who  had  given  him  such  a  galling 
time.  And  this  was  an  opportunity,  as  well,  to  em- 
barrass the  woman  who  had  repelled  him.  These 
thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye. 

"Hello,  Nell,"  he  accosted.    "Going  down  the  road? 


183  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Better  get  in  and  have  a  drive.  I'm  going  that  way 
myself. ' ' 

"I  prefer  to  walk,  thank  you,"  Nell  quietly  replied. 

"Oh,  nonsense.  Get  in  and  have  a  drive,"  Ben  in- 
sisted. 

Douglas  noted  that  Nell's  face  became  somewhat  pale. 
Her  clear  eyes,  filled  with  courage,  never  wavered.  She 
had  made  up  her  mind  and  he  knew  that  nothing  could 
change  her  from  her  purpose.  She  did  not  at  once  re- 
ply to  Ben's  request. 

"Get  in,"  he  ordered,  "and  don't  be  foolish." 

"I  tell  you  I  prefer  to  walk,"  she  repeated.  "I  am 
quite  satisfied  with  my  own  company  this  afternoon." 

With  this  parting  thrust,  Nell  was  about  to  resume 
her  walk  when  Ben  with  a  savage  oath  sprang  toward 
her. 

1 '  No,  you  don 't  get  away  as  easy  as  that, ' '  he  roared. 
"I  want  to  know  the  meaning  of  such  actions." 

Nell's  anger  was  now  aroused,  and  she  turned  swiftly 
upon  the  brute. 

"You  know  very  well  why  I  will  not  ride  with  you. 
Have  you  forgotten  last  night?  This  is  the  King's 
highway,  and  I  am  at  liberty  to  go  as  I  please." 

"To   h with   the   King,"   Ben   retorted,   as   he 

reached  out  and  caught  her  fiercely  by  the  arm. 

At  once  a  cry  of  pain  broke  from  Nell's  lips,  and 
wildly  she  tore  away  the  gripping  fingers.  Her  face 
was  distorted  with  pain,  and  her  right  hand  pressed 
firmly  her  wounded  arm. 

Ben's  oath  concerning  the  King  caused  Douglas'  face 
to  darken  and  his  eyes  to  blaze.  He  sprang  quickly 
forward,  and  seized  the  wretch  by  the  collar  just  as 
Nell  forced  his  grip  from  her  arm.     He  shook  him  as 


WARMER  THAN  HE  EXPECTED  189 

a  terrier  would  shake  a  rat  and  left  him  at  length 
sprawling  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  his  clothes  all 
covered  with  dust. 

"If  you  want  some  more,  get  up,"  Douglas  remarked, 
as  he  stood  viewing  his  prostrate  victim.  "How  dare 
you  insult  the  King,  and  lay  your  foul  hands  upon  this 
woman?  Get  up,  I  tell  you,  and  clear  out  of  this  at 
once. ' ' 

As  Ben  made  no  effort  to  ohey,  but  lay  there  with 
his  face  to  the  ground,  Douglas  reached  down,  caught 
him  by  the  coat  collar,  and  landed  him  on  his  feet. 

"Take  your  car  and  get  away  from  here,"  he  or- 
dered. "Don't  open  your  mouth,  or  it  won't  be  well 
for  you." 

With  face  livid  with  rage  and  with  shaking  limbs, 
Ben  did  as  he  was  commanded.  He  was  thoroughly 
cowed,  and  not  once  did  he  look  back  as  he  crawled 
into  his  car,  started  it,  and  sped  down  the  road. 

Douglas  paid  no  more  attention  to  Ben  but  turned 
immediately  toward  Nell. 

"I  am  sorry  for  what  has  happened,"  he  apologised. 
"I  hope  you " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  for  he  noticed  a  deep  crimson 
stain  on  the  white  dress  where  Ben  had  clutched  her 
arm. 

"Did  he  do  that?"  he  exclaimed,  stepping  quickly 
forward.  "Oh,  if  I  had  only  known  sooner  the  extent 
of  your  injury,  he  would  not  have  escaped  so  easily." 

"He  did  not  do  it  all,"  Nell  replied  with  a  slight 
smile.  "There  is  a  wound  on  my  arm,  and  unfortu- 
nately Ben's  fingers  gripped  me  there.  It  will  be  all 
right  when  it  is  re-dressed." 

For  a  few  seconds  Douglas  stood  looking  at  her  with- 


190  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

out  speaking.  Her  courage  appealed  to  him,  and  her 
beauty  made  her  almost  irresistible.  His  brain  was  in 
a  tumultuous  riot  of  conflicting  emotions.  How  he 
longed  to  comfort  her,  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  and 
tell  her  all  that  was  in  his  heart.  He  was  almost  jubi- 
lant, for  he  knew  now  that  she  had  cast  off  Ben  forever, 
and  there  was  hope  for  him. 

Nell  noted  his  ardent  gaze  and  her  eyes  dropped, 
while  a  deep  flush  replaced  the  pallor  of  her  face. 

"I  must  go  now,"  she  quietly  remarked,  though  it 
was  evident  she  was  not  anxious  to  leave.  "I  was  on 
my  way  to  see  Jean.  I  understand  the  poor  girl  is  quite 
ill." 

"But  you  must  not  go  with  your  arm  bleeding  that 
way,"  Douglas  protested.  "You  must  come  into  the 
house  and  have  it  dressed.  I  know  that  Mrs.  Jukes  will 
gladly  do  it,  that  is,  if  you  prefer  to  have  her." 

"I  prefer  that  you  should  dress  it,"  Nell  replied. 
"  I  do  not  wish  any  one  else  to  see  the  wound  in  my  arm, 
and  I  know  you  will  say  nothing  about  it  to  any  one.  I 
feel  that  I  can  trust  you." 


CHAPTER  XX 


CONFIDENCE 


MRS.  JUKES  was  greatly  puzzled  over  all  that 
had  taken  place  out  upon  the  road.  She  had 
been  watching  from  a  front  window,  and  at  times  had 
been  tempted  to  go  for  Jake  that  he  might  witness  the 
interesting  scene.  But  she  was  afraid  that  she  might 
miss  something  if  she  left  even  for  a  few  minutes. 
"When  she  saw  Nell  and  Douglas  coming  to  the  house, 
she  was  at  the  door  ready  to  receive  them. 

"Well,  I  declare/ '  she  exclaimed,  "if  you  folks 
haven't  been  having  a  time  out  on  the  road  this  after- 
noon. It  was  mighty  lucky  that  no  teams  passed,  or  the 
horses  would  have  run  away  with  fright  at  your  ac- 
tions. ' ' 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  discharge  me  for  neglecting 
iny  work,"  Douglas  laughingly  replied. 

"I  guess  you  needn't  worry  about  that.  It  all  de- 
pends on  what  caused  you  to  neglect  your  work,  and  it 
was  a  mighty  good  one,  if  I'm  any  judge.  My,  I  was 
glad  to  see  you  roll  Ben  Stubbles  in  the  dust.  What's 
he  been  up  to,  now?" 

"You  saw  him  clutch  Miss  Strong  by  the  arm,  didn't 
you?"  Douglas  asked. 

"Indeed  I  did." 

"Well,  then,  see,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  stain  on 
Nell's  dress.    "We  need  a  little  warm  water  and  soft 

191 


192  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

bandages,  or  something  that  will  do  for  the  present,' ' 

"My  lands!  did  that  brute  do  that?"  Mrs.  Jukes  ex- 
claimed. "It's  no  wonder  you  rolled  him  in  the  dust. 
Just  come  inside  and  I'll  get  what  you  want  in  a  jiffy." 

Very  gently  and  with  considerable  skill  Douglas 
washed  and  dressed  the  injured  arm.  He  made  no  com- 
ment about  the  nature  of  the  wound,  though  it  was  not 
hard  for  him  to  surmise  in  what  way  it  had  been  in- 
flicted. He  saw  where  the  knife  had  pierced  the  soft 
flesh,  and  his  hands  trembled  slightly  as  he  thought  how 
serious  must  have  been  the  attack,  and  how  great  the 
strain  upon  Nell's  nerves. 

"You  are  as  good  as  a  doctor,"  she  laughingly  told 
him.    ' '  No  one  could  do  any  better  than  that. ' ' 

1 '  Oh,  I  took  a  course  in  First  Aid  at  one  time,  and  the 
knowledge  I  gained  has  served  me  in  good  stead  on 
many  occasions."  Douglas  was  just  on  the  point  of 
saying  that  it  was  at  college  where  he  had  learned  such 
things,  and  that  then  he  had  been  seriously  thinking 
of  becoming  a  medical  missionary.  It  was  the  nearest 
he  had  come  to  giving  himself  away  since  he  had  been 
at  Rixton,  and  he  determined  to  be  more  cautious  in 
the  future. 

Mrs.  Jukes  insisted  that  Nell  should  remain  for 
supper. 

"I  would  have  had  it  ready  now,"  she  told  her,  "if 
I  hadn't  spent  so  much  time  at  the  window.  But  I 
guess  it  was  worth  it.  I  won't  be  long,  anyway,  and 
Jake  has  not  come  from  the  field  yet." 

Douglas  was  greatly  pleased  when  Nell  at  last  con- 
sented to  stay.  He  went  out  to  bring  in  Jake,  and 
when  he  returned,  he  found  Nell  playing  with  the 
Jukes'  children.     Her  face  was  bright  and  animated, 


CONFIDENCE  193 

and  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  her  re- 
cent troubles.  The  little  ones  were  delighted  at  the 
stories  she  told  them,  as  well  as  the  games  she  knew, 
and  they  would  not  leave  her  when  supper  was  ready, 
but  insisted  on  sitting  next  to  her  at  the  table.  Doug- 
las sat  opposite,  and  he  was  perfectly  content  to  let 
the  others  talk.  Nell  was  near;  he  could  look  upon 
her  face,  and  listen  to  what  she  said,  and  he  was  sat- 
isfied. 

Jake  was  in  great  spirits  when  he  learned  what  had 
happened. 

" Great  punkins!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  wish  I'd  been 
there  to  have  seen  it." 

"But  what  about  the  corn?"  Douglas  asked.  "It 
didn't  get  much  hoeing  to-day." 

"Never  mind  about  the  corn,  John.  Ye  kin  hoe  it 
agin,  but  ye  might  never  git  another  chance  to  roll 
Ben  Stubbles  in  the  dust.  Ho,  ho,  that  was  a  good 
one!" 

When  Nell  left  to  return  home,  it  was  but  natural 
that  Douglas  should  accompany  her.  He  asked  per- 
mission to  do  so,  and  her  acceptance  brought  a  great 
joy  to  his  heart. 

The  Jukes  watched  them  as  they  walked  toward  the 
road. 

"That's  settled,  all  right,"  was  Mrs.  Jukes'  com- 
ment. 

"What?"  Jake  asked. 

"Why,  can't  you  see  for  yourself?  They're  deep  in 
love  with  each  other,  that's  what  it  is." 

"Umph!"  Jake  grunted.  "I  never  thought  of  it  be- 
fore. It  takes  a  woman  to  see  sich  things.  My,  John  '11 
git  a  prize  if  he  hooks  Nell.     Strange  that  she  takes 


194  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

to  him,  an'  him  only  a  hired  man.  Why,  she's  fit  fer 
a  parson's  wife." 

"I  don't  believe  he's  only  a  hired  man,"  his  wife 
replied. 

"Woman,  what  d'ye  mean?"  Jake  demanded  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Oh,  I  don't  exactly  know.  But  he's  the  queerest 
hired  man  I  ever  saw.  He's  got  a  good  education,  and 
just  think  how  he  plays  the  fiddle.  Why,  he  is  wasting 
his  time  working  as  a  hired  man  for  small  wages,  when 
he  might  he  earning  big  money  somewhere  else.  That's 
what 's  been  puzzling  me  for  days. ' ' 

"Mebbe  he's  a  dook  or  a  prince,  Susie,  in  disguise. 
I've  heered  of  sich  things.  But  he's  a  prince  all  right, 
fer  I  don't  know  when  I  met  a  man  I  think  as  much 
of  as  him.  An '  as  fer  farm  work,  why  he  can 't  be  beat. 
He  knows  it  from  A  to  Z,  an'  that's  sayin'  a  good  deal." 

"I  wonder  what  Ben  will  do  now?"  Mrs.  Jukes 
mused.  "He  must  be  about  wild.  I  saw  him  go  up 
the  road  in  his  car  just  before  supper,  and  he  was  driv- 
ing like  mad." 

"He'll  do  something,  mark  my  word,"  Jake  replied. 
"He'll  try  to  git  even  with  John  somehow.  I  should 
have  given  him  warnin'.  He  shouldn't  be  out  at  night. 
It  isn't  safe." 

"Oh,  he  can  take  care  of  himself,  all  right.  I'm  not 
anxious  about  him,  though  I  am  quite  nervous  concern- 
ing Nell.  Ben  and  the  rest  of  the  Stubbles  will  do  their 
best  to  make  it  hard  for  her." 

Nell  and  Douglas  did  not  go  up  the  road,  but  walked 
slowly  down  across  the  field  toward  the  river.  It  was 
a  roundabout  way,  but  that  suited  them  both,  as  they 
would  have  more  time  together,  and  this  latter  was  far 


CONFIDENCE  195 

more  private.  For  the  time  being,  they  were  happy, 
talking  and  laughing  like  two  joyous  children.  Their 
faces  were  radiant,  and  their  eyes  were  filled  with 
animation  when  at  length  they  reached  the  river  and 
stopped  by  the  old  tree  where  Douglas  had  first  seen 
Nell. 

1 '  This  has  been  a  wonderful  day  to  me, ' '  he  remarked, 
as  he  stood  looking  out  over  the  water.  "I  little  real- 
ised this  morning  that  we  would  be  standing  here  now. 
It  was  here  that  I  first  saw  you,  and  heard  you  play- 
ing over  by  that  tree.,, 

" Don't  mention  that  night,' '  Nell  pleaded.  "I  want 
to  forget  it,  and  everything  that  is  past." 

"And  this  afternoon,  too?" 

"Everything  except  your  great  kindness  to  me.  I 
shall  never  forget  that,  and  I  don't  want  to,  either." 

"I  am  so  glad  that  I  was  able  to  rescue  you  from 
that  brute.  My  only  regret  is  that  I  was  not  near  to 
save  you  from  harm  last  night.  If  I  had  been  there, 
that  would  not  have  happened,"  and  he  motioned  to 
her  wounded  arm. 

Nell  turned  her  face  quickly  to  his  and  her  eyes 
expressed  a  great  wonder. 

"Why,  how  did  you  learn  about  that?"  she  enquired. 
"Who  told  you?" 

"No  one.  I  am  an  amateur  Sherlock  Holmes,  and 
have  drawn  my  own  conclusions  from  what  I  have  seen 
and  surmised.  Jean  is  jealous  of  you,  and  'that  way 
madness  lies.'     Am  I  not  right?" 

"You  certainly  are,"  and  a  tremour  shook  Nell's  body 
as  she  recalled  the  incident  of  the  previous  evening. 
"Oh,  it  was  terrible!  Jean  is  so  jealous  of  me.  She 
thinks  that  I  have  taken  Ben  from  her,  and  she  would 


196  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

not  believe  a  word  I  told  her.  She  would  listen  to  noth- 
ing, but  said  I  was  lying." 

"And  you  were  not?"  Douglas  eagerly  asked. 

"No.  I  simply  told  her  the  truth,  and  that  Ben  is 
nothing  to  me,  and  that  I  never  tried  to  take  him  from 
her.     But  she  would  not  believe  me." 

A  feeling  of  wonderful  rapture  came  into  Douglas' 
soul  as  he  listened  to  this  candid  confession.  So  Ben 
was  nothing  to  Nell.  It  was  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 
There  was  hope  for  him. 

"But  you  often  met  Ben  by  the  tree  over  there,  did 
you  not?"  he  at  length  questioned.  "It  was  there  I 
first  saw  you  when  you  played  such  sweet  music.  I 
remember  he  joined  you  that  evening." 

For  a  while  Nell  remained  silent  with  her  eyes  fixed 
thoughtfully  upon  the  ground.  Douglas  was  afraid 
that  he  had  said  too  much,  and  had  offended  her.  But 
when  she  lifted  her  face  and  he  saw  the  expression 
upon  it,  he  knew  that  he  was  wrong.  Her  cheeks  were 
aglow  with  animation  and  her  eyes  beamed  with  eager- 
ness. 

"Do  you  mind  if  I  tell  you  something?"  she  asked. 
"Part  of  it  is  known  only  to  Nan  and  me.  I  feel  that 
I  can  trust  you." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  hear,"  Douglas  replied, 
"and  I  am  most  grateful  for  your  confidence  in  me." 

"I  am  very  much  worried  about  what  will  happen  to 
us  and  our  little  home,"  she  began.  "You  see,  when 
father  was  a  professor  at  Passdale  he  bought  this  place 
for  a  summer  residence,  and  my  dear  mother  always 
loved  it  so  much.  When  he  became  blind,  we  moved 
here,  and  lived  very  comfortably  because  he  had  a  pri- 
vate income.     But  in  a  fatal  moment  he  was  induced 


CONFIDENCE  197 

to  invest  all  lie  had  in  the  Big  Chief  gold  mine  out 
west.  Every  one  was  talking  about  it  and  what  a 
splendid  investment  it  was.  We  were  sure  that  in  a 
few  months  we  would  be  very  rich.  But  you  know  what 
happened  to  that.  There  was  bad  management  some- 
where, the  works  shut  down,  and  so  many  people  were 
ruined.,, 

"Indeed  I  know,,,  Douglas  emphatically  replied.  "I 
was  bitten,  too,  and  lost  my  all.  It  wasn't  much,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  meant  a  great  deal  to  me." 

"It  was  ruin  to  us,"  Nell  continued.  "For  a  while 
I  thought  father  would  go  out  of  his  mind,  he  felt  so 
badly.  Then,  to  add  to  our  trouble,  Nan  became  ill, 
and  it  took  our  last  dollar  to  pay  the  doctor  and  other 
expenses.  At  length,  we  were  forced  to  mortgage  the 
place  to  Mr.  Stubbles  to  pay  our  grocery  bill  which  had 
grown  so  large.  It  is  that  which  has  been  hanging  over 
our  home  like  a  terrible  cloud  for  several  years  now. ' ' 

Nell  paused  and  looked  out  over  the  water.  The  glow 
of  evening  touched  her  face  and  soft  hair,  and  made 
her  seem  to  the  young  man  watching  her  as  if  she  were 
not  of  this  earth,  so  beautiful  did  she  appear.  What 
right  had  such  a  woman  to  be  troubled  ?  he  asked  him- 
self.   How  he  longed  to  do  something  to  help  her. 

"So  you  came  to  the  rescue,  and  started  farming." 

"There  was  nothing  else  to  do,"  she  smilingly  replied. 
"I  felt  the  responsibility,  and  had  to  do  something.  I 
didn't  know  much  about  gardening  at  first,  and  made 
many  mistakes.  But  we  have  managed  to  live,  pay  the 
interest  on  the  mortgage  and  part  of  the  principal. 
But  we  are  in  danger  of  losing  everything  now,"  she 
added  with  a  note  of  sadness  in  her  voice. 


198  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"In  what  way?" 

"You  see,  the  mortgage  was  due  the  first  of  July, 
and  it  should  have  been  paid  then.  But  we  did  not  have 
the  money,  not  even  enough  to  pay  the  interest.  Our 
garden  did  not  do  very  well  last  year,  and  the  winter 
was  a  hard  one.  After  we  had  paid  father's  life  in- 
surance, there  was  very  little  left.  We  did  not  know 
what  to  do  and  were  greatly  depressed.  It  was  then 
that  father  went  with  Nan  to  the  city  and  played  on 
the  streets.  I  knew  nothing  about  it  until  they  came 
home  with  the  money  they  received  through  your  kind- 
ness. We  were  thus  enabled  to  pay  the  interest  on 
the  mortgage,  as  well  as  our  grocery  bill  at  the  store. 
You  little  realise  how  grateful  we  are  to  you  for  what 
you  did  for  us." 

"I  have  never  been  so  thankful  for  anything  I  ever 
did,"  Douglas  earnestly  replied.  "Little  did  I  realise 
that  night  when  I  stopped  to  watch  your  father  play, 
what  the  outcome  of  my  act  would  be.  But  now  that 
the  interest  is  paid,  how  is  it  that  you  are  in  danger 
of  losing  your  home?" 

"Simply  because  Mr.  Stubbles  wants  the  money.  It 
is  only  a  small  amount  now,  and  by  another  summer 
we  could  have  it  all  paid." 

"But  surely  Stubbles  doesn't  need  the  money.  I 
understand  that  he  is  very  rich." 

"I  am  not  so  certain  about  that.  There  have  been 
rumours  abroad  for  some  time  now  that  he  is  not  as 
rich  as  people  imagine,  and  that  he  is  having  some  dif- 
ficulty in  carrying  on  his  business.  Anyway,  when  I 
went  to  see  him  about  the  mortgage,  he  told  me  in  no 
gentle  way  that  he  must  have  the  money  and  at  once. 


CONFIDENCE  199 

If  not,  he  said  he  would  foreclose  and  sell  the  place. 
But  he  has  not  done  so  yet." 

"Why?"  Douglas  asked  the  question  eagerly.  He 
believed  that  he  knew  the  reason  now,  and  if  his  sur- 
mise were  true  it  would  explain  something  which  had 
puzzled  and  worried  him  for  days  past. 

"He  has  been  waiting,  that  is  all,"  Nell's  voice  was 
low  as  she  spoke.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  ground, 
and  a  deep,  rich  flush  was  mantling  her  cheeks  and 
brow.  Then  she  lifted 'her  head  and  spoke  with  con- 
siderable embarrassment.  "Yes,  he  has  been  waiting," 
she  repeated,  "waiting  for  something  to  happen.  It  all 
depended  upon  that." 

"I  know.  He  has  been  waiting  to  see  what  answer 
you  would  give  to  Ben.    Is  that  it?" 

"Yes,  that's  it." 

"And  you  have  refused  him?" 

"Couldn't  you  tell  that  by  what  happened  this  af- 
ternoon ? ' ' 

"Certainly.  But  I  wished  to  hear  it  from  your  own 
lips.  And  so  you  think  Stubbles  will  be  very  angry 
and  will  foreclose  at  once?" 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  it.  I  am  sure  that  he  will. 
Ben  will  see  to  that.  I  am  afraid  you  do  not  know 
the  Stubbles  yet.  They  will  stop  at  nothing,  especially 
the  men." 

"I  think  I  know  something,  more  perhaps  than  you 
realise,"  and  a  slight  smile  flitted  across  Douglas'  face. 
"And  I  believe  I  know  now,"  he  added,  "why  you 
met  Ben  by  the  old  tree.  There  was  so  much  at  stake 
that  you  did  not  wish  to  offend  him. ' ' 

"You  have  guessed  right.  Oh,  it  was  terrible!  I 
like  a  hypocrite  all  the  time,  iuid  yet  I  had  not 


200  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

the  courage  to  refuse  meeting  him  for  fear  of  what 
would  happen/ ' 

"But  you  had  the  courage  at  last,  though?" 
"It  was  only  when  I  could  stand  him  no  longer.  I 
knew  for  some  time  that  he  was  not  a  good  man,  but 
his  actions  of  late  have  so  disgusted  me  beyond  all 
bounds  of  endurance  that  I  refused  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  him.  There,  I  have  told  you  all,  and 
I  feel  greatly  relieved. " 

"I  suppose  you  hardly  know  what  you  will  do  if  you 
lose  your  place.  Is  there  not  some  one  from  whom 
you  could  borrow  enough  money  to  pay  off  the  mort- 


gage 


"I  am  afraid  not.  We  have  no  security  to  give,  and, 
besides,  I  dread  the  thought  of  asking  for  help.  Father 
will  be  almost  heartbroken,  and  it  will  make  him  more 
bitter  than  ever." 

"At  what?" 

"The  Church  and  all  connected  with  it.  Mr.  Stub- 
bles has  been  a  warden  here  for  years,  and  the  way 
he  has  acted  has  been  partly  the  cause  of  father's 
bitter  feelings.  Now  he  will  be  worse  than  ever.  I 
wonder  what  the  new  clergyman  will  be  like." 

"Perhaps  he  may  be  able  to  settle  matters." 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  He  will  have  to  do  as  the  Stubbles 
say  or  leave,  just  as  the  others  did.  If  he  should  hap- 
pen to  be  a  very  strong-minded  man  and  will  stand 
,up  for  justice  and  right,  he  will  have  a  most  difficult 
time  of  it.  In  that  case,  father  would  be  his  firm  friend, 
though  I  fear  he  could  do  but  little  to  help  him." 

"His  moral  assistance  would  mean  much,  though, 
would  it  not?" 

"Perhaps  so,"  and  Nell  sighed.    "But  I  think  I  must 


CONFIDENCE  201 

go  home  now.  Father  and  Nan  will  be  wondering  what 
has  kept  me.  Won 't  you  come  and  see  father  ?  I  know 
he  wants  to  talk  to  you  about  his  book.  I  am  thank- 
ful he  has  something  to  occupy  his  mind." 


CHAPTER  XXI 


OUTDONE 


WHEN  they  reached  the  house,  they  found  Nan 
up  in  arms.  She  scolded  Nell  for  being  away 
so  long  and  leaving  her  to  get  supper  and  wash  the 
dishes. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  fair/'  she  pouted.  "You  go 
off  and  have  a  good  time,  while  I  must  stay  home  and 
drudge  like  a  slave.' ' 

"You  do  not  look  any  the  worse  for  it,"  Douglas 
laughingly  told  her.  "It  seems  to  agree  with  you.  I 
never  saw  you  look  better." 

"H'm,"  and  Nan  tossed  her  head.  "It  may  agree 
with  my  complexion  but  not  with  my  temper.  The 
only  way  you  can  make  me  good  natured  is  to  have  a 
game  of  checkers  with  me.  I  am  just  dying  for  a  game. 
No  one  here  will  play  with  me.  It's  too  giddy,  I  sup- 
pose. I'm  sure  it's  much  nicer  than  Shakespeare — he's 
too  dry.  Why,  I've  been  reading  to  daddy  for  the  last 
hour,  and  I  can't  remember  one  word." 

The  professor  was  most  anxious  to  discuss  his  book, 
but  Nan  insisted  on  checkers  first. 

"I  have  a  right  to  my  own  way  for  once,"  she  in- 
sisted. "You  promised  me  long  ago  that  I  could  have 
Mr.  Handyman  to  myself  the  next  time  he  came.  But, 
no,  it  was  Shakespeare  and  Church  matters,  and  so  I 
was  pushed  aside." 

202 


OUTDONE  203 

They  all  laughed  heartily  at  her  words  and  gestures, 
and  the  professor  at  last  agreed  that  they  should  play 
two  games.     Then  he  had  something  important  to  say. 

"With  Nan's  animated  face  beaming  over  the  hoard, 
and  Nell  sitting  quietly  sewing  by  the  table,  it  was  a 
most  enjoyable  evening  to  Douglas.  But  the  professor 
was  not  so  happy.  The  minutes  dragged  heavily,  so 
when  the  players  had  won  a  game  each,  he  gave  a  sigh 
of  relief  and  claimed  Douglas'  special  attention. 

"I  wish  to  discuss  several  points  in  the  tragedy  of 
Hamlet,"  he  began.  "I  am  not  altogether  sure  in  my 
own  mind,  and  would  like  to  have  your  opinion." 

Though  Douglas  had  studied  Hamlet  at  college,  yet 
he  felt  very  diffident  about  discussing  the  "several 
points, ' '  which  he  felt  sure  would  be  difficult  ones.  But 
as  the  professor  began  to  talk,  he  knew  that  his  opinion 
would  not  be  necessary.  Once  launched  upon  his  sub- 
ject, the  old  man  seemed  to  imagine  that  he  was  once 
more  in  the  class  room.  Several  times  he  asked  Nell 
to  read  certain  extracts  from  his  notes,  and  upon  these 
he  always  enlarged.  It  was  pathetic  to  observe  his  in- 
tense eagerness,  and  he  was  certain  that  his  visitor 
was  keenly  interested  in  his  subject. 

It  was  well  for  him  that  he  could  not  see  into  the 
hearts  and  minds  of  the  others  in  the  room.  Nan  was 
lost  in  a  story  book  she  had  borrowed  from  a  girl  friend 
that  very  afternoon;  while  Nell's  thoughts  were  not 
upon  the  wonders  of  Shakespeare,  but  upon  the  events 
of  the  day.  Douglas  tried  to  pay  strict  attention  to 
what  'ng  said,  though  his  eyes  would  often  wan- 

der to  the  young  woman  sewing  just  in  front  of  him. 
He  noted  the  varying  expressions  upon  her  face,  and 
he   intuitively   surmised  something   of  what   she   was 


204  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

thinking.  How  he  longed  to  be  talking  with  her  and 
listening  to  her  as  it  had  been  his  privilege  that  after- 
noon. Could  she  ever  care  for  him?  he  asked  himself 
just  at  the  very  instant  when  the  professor  was  waxing 
eloquent  about  Shakespeare  as  an  artist.  He  tried  to 
listen,  but  the  force  of  the  words  of  wisdom  were  lost 
upon  him.  The  professor,  however,  was  pleased,  and 
as  Douglas  rose  to  go  he  told  him  how  delightful  had 
been  their  conversation,  and  that  the  several  points 
which  had  been  troubling  him  were  quite  clear. 

Douglas '  heart  was  happy  and  his  step  light  and  elas- 
tic as  he  left  the  house.  He  thought  over  what  Nell 
had  told  him,  and  her  confidence  in  him  gave  him  great 
joy.  He  valued  this  far  more  than  the  explanation  she 
had  volunteered  about  her  family  affairs.  She  trusted 
him  and  turned  to  him  for  sympathy.  Little  wonder, 
then,  that  his  face  glowed  and  his  eyes  shone  with  rap- 
ture. It  was  all  a  new  experience  to  him,  and  life 
seemed  very  pleasant. 

He  was  roused  from  this  reverie  by  the  sound  of 
angry  voices.  He  stopped  and  listened  intently.  They 
were  evidently  men,  quarrelling  on  the  road  ahead  of 
him,  though  he  could  not  distinguish  what  they  were 
saying.  The  fact  that  they  were  talking  so  loudly 
made  him  feel  that  they  were  not  there  with  any  evil 
designs.  Nevertheless,  he  felt  that  it  was  just  as  well 
to  find  out  what  was  the  trouble,  and  at  the  same  time 
remain  out  of  sight. 

Along  the  road  ran  a  hedge  of  thick  bushes,  and, 
keeping  well  within  the  dark  fringe  of  these,  Douglas 
slowly  advanced.  He  could  hear  the  talking  more 
plainly  now,  and  ere  long  he  was  able  to  tell  that  the 
men  were  under  the  influence  of  liquor.     Their  voices 


OUTDONE  205 

were  maudlin,  and  they  were  wrangling  with  one  an- 
other in  a  somewhat  petulant  and  childish  manner. 

"I  tell  ye  he  is,"  he  heard  one  say. 

"He  ain't,"  another  retorted. 

"Yes,  he  is,  ye  blame  fool." 

"He  ain't." 

"Shet  up  ye'r  jawin',"  a  third  ordered.  "Ye'r  both 
drunk.  Sure  he's  there.  Wasn't  he  seen  goin'  into 
the  house?" 

"Well,  111  be  darned  if  I'm  goin'  to  wait  any 
longer,"   the  first  speajker  whined.     "I'm  tired  an' 

sleepy,  an'  want  to  go  home.    I  wish  to  G that  Ben 

would  do  his  own  dirty  work." 

"Ye  liked  his  whiskey  well  enough,  didn't  ye?"  his 
companion  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  all  right,  but  there  wasn't  enough 
of  it." 

"Too  much  fer  you,  though.  Why,  it's  gone  to  ye'r 
head,  an '  has  made  yer  tongue  like  a  mill-clapper.  Ye  'd 
better  shet  ye'r  mouth  or  the  guy '11  hear  ye  an*  take 
to  his  heels  before  we  kin  lay  hands  on  him." 

"I  ain't  talkin'  any,  am  I?  Watcher  growlin'  'bout? 
I'm  goin'  home." 

"No,  ye  ain't." 

"Yes,  I  am." 

A  scuffle  followed  these  words,  and  Douglas  could 
dimly  see  the  forms  of  the  two  men  as  they  rolled  and 
tumbled  about  on  the  ground.  Then  some  one  pulled 
them  apart  and  administered  a  resounding  cuff  upon 
their  ears. 

"Stop  fighting  ye  fools,"  was  the  peremptory  order. 
"De'ye  want  to  spoil  the  whole  show  to-night?" 

"Who's  spoilin'  the  show?" 


206  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"You  are." 

"I  ain't.  I  want  to  go  home.  I'm  sick  of  this  busi- 
ness." 

"Ye'r  not  goin'  till  the  guy  comes,  I  tell  ye." 

"When's  he  comin'?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"He'll  stay  there  till  midnight.  They  always  do. 
I  never  got  home  till  mornin'  when  I  was  courtin',  an* 
Sal  wasn't  half  as  sweet  as  the  'fessor's  daughter. 
Gad,  she's  a  peach!" 

"Ye'r  no  judge  of  beauty,  Tom  Fleet,"  was  the  re- 
tort. "You'd  kiss  a  cow  when  ye'r  drunk,  thinkin' 
she's  beautiful." 

"I  ain't  drunk,  I  tell  ye." 

"Ye  are." 

"I  ain't;  I'm  only  sleepy  an'  want  to  go  home." 

"Well,  ye  ain't  goin'  till  the  guy  comes." 

"Then  I'm  goin'  to  fetch  him." 

"Now,  ye'r  talkin'.  That's  the  stuff,  Tom.  Well 
take  him  from  his  lady  love.     Come  on." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  one  of  the  bunch  ordered.  "How  11 
we  do  it?" 

What  their  plan  was  Douglas  could  not  tell,  for  their 
voices  suddenly  became  low  as  they  made  their  plans. 
But  it  did  not  matter.  He  knew  that  they  were  after 
him,  and  most  likely  would  go  to  the  house  and  do  con- 
siderable harm.  He  must  have  assistance,  and  he  at 
once  thought  of  Jake.  With  him  at  his  side,  he  felt 
that  the  men  before  him  could  be  mastered,  especially 
in  their  present  condition. 

Creeping  through  the  bushes  as  quietly  as  possible, 
he  reached  the  open  field  and  across  this  he  bounded  like 
a  greyhound.     He  knew  that  every  minute  was  pre- 


OUTDONE  207 

cious,  and  the  thought  of  Nell  facing  those  drunken 
men  caused  his  feet  fairly  to  spurn  the  grass.  Reach- 
ing the  main  road,  he  tore  through  the  dust,  sprang 
over  a  ditch,  leaped  a  fence,  raced  through  the  orchard 
and  ran  plumb  into  Jake  and  Empty  standing  at  the 
back  door. 

"  Great  punkins!"  Jake  exclaimed,  recovering  from 
the  impact.    ' '  What 's  wrong  ? ' ' 

"Quick,  quick!"  Douglas  panted.  "Come  at  once. 
Ben's  men  are  after  me.  They  think  I'm  at  the  pro- 
fessor's, and  they  are  going  to  break  into  the  house. 
Hurry." 

"G-g-good  Lord"  Jake  stuttered  in  amazement.  "Let 
me  git  me  gun ! ' ' 

"No,  no,  never  mind  that;  your  fists  will  do.    Come." 

Without  waiting  for  further  parley,  Douglas  darted 
away,  with  Jake  and  Empty  close  at  his  heels.  He  did 
not  go  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  the  men  but  kept 
off  into  the  middle  of  the  field,  and  ran  down  opposite 
the  professor's  house.  Then  turning  sharply  to  the 
left,  he  hurried  across  to  the  garden  and  stopped  be- 
fore the  row  of  bushes  which  ran  almost  to  the  shore. 

The  rescuers  were  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  the  at- 
tackers had  already  reached  the  house  and  were  pound- 
ing loudly  upon  the  back  door.  When  it  presently 
slowly  opened,  Douglas  could  hear  Nell's  voice  anx- 
iously enquiring  what  was  the  matter. 

"Give  us  the  guy  who's  here,"  one  of  the  men  de- 
manded. 

"Who?"  Nell  asked  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  you  know,  all  right.  The  feller  that's  courtin' 
ye;  Jake's  man." 

Douglas'  hands  clenched  hard  together  as  he  listened 


208  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

to  these  words,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  re- 
strained himself.  It  would  not  do  to  rush  forth  just 
then.  He  must  wait  for  the  men's  next  move.  He 
could  not  see  the  features  of  Nell's  face  very  plainly, 
but  the  words  she  uttered  in  reply  to  the  impudent 
order  told  of  her  indignation. 

■ '  How  dare  you  come  here  with  such  a  request  ? ' '  she 
demanded.  "Leave  this  place  at  once  or  I  shall  have 
you  all  arrested.  I  am  surprised  at  you,  Tom  Totten. 
What  will  your  wife  say?  Go  home  at  once,  and  leave 
me  alone." 

"No,  we  don't,"  was  the  surly  reply.  "We're  under 
orders,  an'  we  won't  leave  until  we  git  our  man.  Ye've 
got  him  in  the  house,  so  hustle  him  out  an'  be  quick 
about  it." 

"He  is  not  here,"  Nell  replied.  "And  even  if  he 
were,  I  wouldn't  let  you  touch  him.  You  have  all  been 
drinking,  that  is  what's  the  matter  with  you.  I  am 
ashamed  of  you  all.  Go  away  at  once  before  you  make 
fools  of  yourselves." 

1 '  We  won 't  go,  I  tell  ye,  before  we  git  our  man.  We 
know  he's  in  the  house,  an'  we're  goin'  to  git  him." 

Nell's  only  reply  was  to  turn  quickly  and  shut  the 
door  in  their  faces.    Then  a  hubbub  arose. 

"Smash  in  the  door,"  cried  one. 

"Break  in  the  winder,"  ordered  another. 

Then  a  rush  was  made  against  the  door,  which  gave 
way  with  a  crash,  and  the  men  stumbled  into  the  kitchen 
where  Nell  was  standing. 

As  the  door  went  through,  Douglas  and  his  com- 
panions sprang  from  their  hiding  place,  bounded  to- 
ward the  house  and  fell  upon  the  attackers  like  a  whirl- 


OUTDONE  20£ 

wind.  Douglas'  blood  was  up,  and  he  delivered  tell- 
ing blows  to  right  and  left. 

"Here  I  am,"  he  cried,  as  he  gave  Tom  Totten  a 
punch  under  the  ear,  which  sent  him  reeling  across  the 
room.  "Why  don't  you  take  me?  I  am  the  man  you 
want.     Now  is  your  chance.,, 

Jake  and  Empty  nobly  supported  him,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  room  was  cleared  of  all  the  attackers  ex- 
cept two  who  were  sprawling  upon  the  floor.  Their 
noses  were  bleeding  and  they  were  groaning  most  dole- 
fully. The  others  had  made  good  their  escape,  though 
not  without  serious  injury,  for  their  faces  were  cut  and 
bleeding,  and  they  limped  as  they  hurried  away  from 
the  scene  of  their  defeat. 

"Great  punkins!"  Jake  exclaimed.  "Is  it  all  over? 
I  was  jist  beginnin'  when  everything  stopped.  Hi, 
there,  Tom  Totten/'  he  cried,  as  he  tickled  the  de- 
feated man's  ribs  with  the  toe  of  his  boot,  "so  this 
is  the  way  ye  spend  ye'r  evenin's,  eh?  Why  don't  ye 
git  up  an'  let  us  see  what  a  purty  face  ye  have?  It 
never  was  much  to  look  at,  though  I  guess  it's  a  sight 
fer  sore  eyes  now.  Ho,  ho,  this  is  the  best  lark  I've 
had  in  years,  hey,  Empty?" 

"Ye  bet,"  and  the  lad  smacked  his  lips.  "Did  ye 
see  the  way  I  landed  one  on  Jim  Parks'  nose?  It  was 
a  bruiser.  I  bet  he's  rubbin'  it  yit  an'  roarin'  like  a 
bull.    My,  it  was  great!    I'm  sorry  it  was  over  so  soon." 

But  Nell  had  no  such  feelings  of  regret.  She  was 
standing  in  the  door  leading  into  the  hallway.  Her 
face  was  very  white,  and  her  body  was  trembling.  By 
her  side  stood  Nan,  her  face  beaming  and  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  animation. 

"It's  just  like  a  story,"  she  exclaimed,  clasping  her 


210  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

hands  before  her.  ' '  It 's  far  better  than  a  picture  show, 
for  this  is  real,  isn't  it,  Nell?" 

So  unexpected  was  this  view  of  the  situation,  that 
they  all  laughed  except  the  two  men  on  the  floor. 

"Ye'r  a  brick,  all  right,  Nell,"  Jake  remarked.  "I 
like  ye'r  pluck.  Now,  some  gals  would  have  yelled  an' 
hollered  an'  tumbled  down  in  a  faint.  But  that's  not 
the  way  with  the  gals  of  this  house,"  and  he  cast  a 
glance  of  admiration  at  Nell. 

Douglas  had  now  stepped  to  Tom's  side  and  was 
bending  over  him. 

"Get  up,"  he  ordered,  "and  explain  the  meaning  of 
all  this." 

Tom  slowly  obeyed,  crawled  to  his  knees  and  then  to 
his  feet.  His  companion,  Pete  Rollins,  did  the  same. 
They  presented  a  sorry  spectacle,  and  Douglas  could 
scarcely  repress  a  smile.  But  Nan  laughed  outright 
when  she  saw  them. 

"My,  what  beauties!"  she  exclaimed.  "This  isn't 
Hallowe'en,  Tom.  Did  you  think  it  was?  You'll  know 
better  next  time,  won't  you?" 

"  'Deed  I  will,  miss,"  was  the  emphatic  reply.  "No 
more  sich  doin's  fer  me,  I  tell  ye  that." 

Nell  in  the  meantime  had  procured  a  basin  of  water, 
a  wash-cloth  and  a  towel.  She  now  stood  before  the 
battered  men. 

"Sit  down,  both  of  you,"  she  quietly  ordered.  "It 
won't  do  for  you  to  go  home  looking  that  way." 

Meekly  they  obeyed  and  sat  very  still  while  she 
washed  the  blood  from  their  faces. 

"It's  good  of  ye,  miss,"  Tom  told  her.  "We  don't 
deserve  sich  kindness  after  what  we  said  an'  done  to 


OUTDONE  211 

you  to-night.  Some  would  have  kicked  us  out  of  the 
house  an'  left  us  there  half  dead." 

"You,  fer  instance,  Nan,  eh?"  Empty  grinned,  as  he 
looked  toward  the  girl. 

"No,  I  wouldn't,"  Nan  stoutly  protested.  "That 
would  have  been  too  good  for  them.  I  would  like  to 
keep  them  and  start  a  travelling  show  throughout  the 
country.  I  would  make  my  fortune  in  a  short  time. 
They  deserve  to  be  treated  like  that  for  disturbing  my 
peaceful  slumbers.  And  just  look  at  that  door,  all 
broken  down.    Who 's  going  to  fix  it,  I  'd  like  to  know  ? ' ' 

"I'll  fix  it,  miss,"  Pete  eagerly  replied.  "I'll  come 
to-morrow  an'  make  it  as  good  as  new." 

"No,  you  won't.  You'll  be  in  jail;  that's  where 
you'll  be." 

"Hush,  hush,  Nan,"  Nell  ordered,  though  she  found 
it  hard  not  to  smile  at  the  frightened  look  which  came 
into  Pete's  eyes.  "Don't  mind  Nan,  Pete.  She  isn't 
as  terrible  as  she  sounds." 

"Yes,  she  is,"  Empty  insisted.  "She  kin  use  her 
hands  as  well  as  her  tongue.  I  know  it,  fer  she 's  often 
boxed  my  ears." 

" H'm ! "  and  Nan  tossed  her  head  disdainfully.  ' ' If 
you'd  been  a  man  I  would  have  done  more  than  that; 
I  would  have  blackened  your  eyes,  and " 

"There,  there,  Nan,  that  will  do,"  Nell  interrupted, 
and  from  the  tone  of  her  voice  Nan  knew  that  she  must 
obey.  With  a  sigh  of  resignation  she  stood  with  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor  and  her  hands  clasped  before 
her,  unheeding  Empty,  who  was  grinning  at  her  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room. 

"Guess  we'd  better  go  now,"  Tom  remarked  when 
had  finished  her  ablutions.     "It  must  be  purty 


212  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

late.  But  afore  I  go  I  wish  to  ask  ye'r  pardon,  miss," 
and  he  turned  to  Nell  as  he  spoke.  "I  wasn't  jist  me- 
self  to-night,  an'  I  guess  the  rest  were  in  the  same 
fix." 

"A  moment,  Tom,"  and  Douglas  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  shoulder.  ' '  I  want  you  to  tell  us  why  you  and  your 
companions  made  this  attack  to-night." 

"To  git  you,  of  course.    Didn't  ye  know  that?" 

"Yes,  indeed  I  did,  but  I  wanted  to  hear  you  say  so. 
Now,  what  did  you  want  to  get  me  for?  What  harm 
have  I  done  to  you  or  to  the  men  who  were  with  you?" 

"None,  none  at  all.  But,  ye  see,  we  were  under  or- 
ders.   We  were  told  to  come." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"Ben  Stubbles." 

"What  did  he  tell  you  to  do?" 

"Lay  fer  ye  by  the  road,  an'  give  ye  a  thorough 
hidin'." 

"Didn't  you  feel  ashamed  to  undertake  such  a  cow- 
ardly thing  as  that?" 

"We  did,  an'  we  refused  at  first,  an'  told  him  that 
we  didn't  want  to  git  into  any  trouble.  But  he  prom- 
ised that  he  would  stand  by  an'  take  the  hull  blame. 
When  we  still  refused,  he  threatened  us,  an'  when  that 
wouldn't  work  he  produced  the  whiskey." 

"Now,  will  you  swear  to  all  this?"  Douglas  asked. 

"Swear!  sure  I  will.  I'll  swear  to  them  very  words 
anywhere  an'  at  any  time.    Won't  ye,  Pete?" 

"Ay,  ay,"  was  the  reply.  "I'll  swear  any  old  time, 
an'  I  feel  mighty  like  swearin'  jist  now,  'deed  I  do." 

"But  what  will  Ben  say?"  Douglas  asked.  "Won't 
he  make  it  hot  for  you?" 

"Let  him  make  it  hot,  then,"  Pete  declared.     "I 


OUTDONE  213 

don 't  have  to  stay  here  an '  work  f er  old  Stubbles.  I 
kin  go  somewhere  else,  an'  mebbe  it  will  be  jist  as  well 
if  I  do." 

"Yvrho  were  the  other  men  with  you  to-night  besides 
Pete  ?  It  is  important  that  we  should  have  their  names. ' ' 

"D'ye  mind  if  I  don't  tell  ye  now,  sir?"  and  Tom 
lifted  his  eyes  to  Douglas'  face.  "They're  all  friends 
of  mine,  an'  I'd  hate  to  squeal  on  'em." 

"But  you  didn't  mind  telling  on  Ben,  did  you?" 

"Oh,  that's  different.  He  ain't  a  friend  of  mine,  an' 
never  was.  He's  big  feelin'  an'  mighty,  an'  has  no 
use  fer  the  likes  of  me,  unless  he's  got  some  axe  to 
grind.  Oh,  no,  I  don't  mind  squealin'  on  the  likes  of 
him." 

"But  we  must  have  the  names  of  the  men  who  were 
with  you  to-night,"  Douglas  insisted.  "I  cannot  help 
whether  you  like  it  or  not." 

"Look,  sir,  I'll  tell  ye  this:  Whenever  ye  want  me 
an'  Pete,  well  be  there,  an'  we'll  have  the  rest  with 
us." 

"But  perhaps  they  won't  come,  what  then?" 

"Don't  ye  worry  a  mite  about  that.  They'll  come 
all  right.  But  supposin'  they  buck  an'  won't  come, 
then  I'll  tell  ye  their  names.  I'll  give  'em  fair  warnin', 
an'  if  they  don't  come  I'll  squeal  on  'em  then,  but  not 
before.     Will  that  do,  sir?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  Douglas  assented.  "But  don't 
you  fail  to  come  when  you  're  called.  We  have  all  these 
witnesses  to  what  you  have  said  to-night.  You  may 
go  now." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

COMPELLED   TO   SERVE 

DOUGLAS  and  his  companions  stayed  for  some 
time  after  Tom  and  Pete  left.  There  was  much 
to  talk  about,  and  Nell  had  to  go  upstairs  to  explain 
everything  to  her  father  who  was  greatly  agitated  over 
the  unusual  disturbance.  Then,  there  was  the  door  to 
be  fixed,  and  it  took  Jake  a  full  half  hour  to  get  it 
mended. 

1  *  There,  I  guess  that  will  stand  f  er  a  while, ' '  he  com- 
mented, as  he  stood  back  and  viewed  his  work. 

4 'I  thought  Pete  was  going  to  do  it,"  Douglas  re- 
marked. 

"Mebbe  he  would  an'  mebbe  he  wouldn't.  But  most 
likely  he  wouldn't.  Pete  would  have  promised  almost 
anything  jist  then.  Anyway,  the  door's  fixed,  an'  I 
guess  it's  about  time  we  were  gittin'  home." 

Nell  looked  tired  as  they  bade  her  good-night.  Doug- 
las knew  what  a  trying  day  it  had  been  for  her,  and 
he  admired  her  courage  as  she  smilingly  held  out  her 
hand  to  each  one  of  them. 

1 '  I  can  never  thank  you  for  your  kindness, ' '  she  told 
them.  "It  is  hard  to  tell  what  might  have  happened 
if  you  had  not  arrived  when  you  did." 

Douglas  cherished  the  idea  that  Nell  looked  at  him 
differently  than  she  did  at  his  companions,  and  that 
the  clasp  of  her  hand  was  firmer,  and  that  she  let  it  rest 

2H 


COMPELLED  TO  SERVE  215 

in  his  a  second  longer.  He  felt  sure  that  he  was  not 
mistaken,  and  it  brought  a  thrill  to  his  heart. 

As  the  three  men  made  their  way  through  the  night, 
Jake  kept  emitting  occasional  exclamations,  while 
Empty  gurgled  forth  chuckles  of  delight.  Each  was 
giving  vent  in  his  own  way  to  his  feelings  over  the 
events  of  the  night.  Douglas  said  nothing,  but  walked 
silently  by  their  side.  He  was  thinking  over  more  seri- 
ous matters  in  which  Ben  Stubbles  loomed  large  and 
ominous.  He  believed  that  the  struggle  between  him- 
self and  the  Stubbles  had  now  reached  a  crisis,  and  that 
he  was  in  a  fair  way  of  winning  a  victory  over  Ben,  at 
least,  if  he  advanced  carefully. 

It  was  past  midnight  by  the  time  they  reached  home. 
Jake  made  Empty  come  into  the  house. 

' '  We  're  goin '  to  have  something  to  eat, ' '  he  told  him, 
"an'  I  know  you  always  shine  when  there's  any  grub 
around. ' ' 

Mrs.  Jukes  was  in  bed,  but  it  did  not  take  Jake  long 
to  light  the  kitchen  fire,  boil  some  water,  and  prepare 
a  pot  of  tea.  This,  with  bread  and  jam  from  the  pan- 
try, formed  their  midnight  repast,  and  when  they  were, 
through  Jake  pushed  back  his  chair  and  lighted  his  pipe. 

"Great  punkins!"  he  exclaimed,  bringing  his  big  fist 
down  upon  the  table  with  a  bang.  "I  wouldn't  a* 
missed  that  racket  to-night  fer  anything.  I  wonder 
what  Ben '11  think  about  it  all  now." 

"Do  you  suppose  the  men  will  tell  him?"  Douglas 
asked. 

"Sure.  He  knows  all  about  it  by  now,  I  bet  ye'r  life. 
Most  likely  he  was  not  fer  off,  the  skunk,  watchin'  the 
hull  racket.    I  wish  to  goodness  I'd  got  the  punch  on 


216  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

his  nose  instead  of  Tom's.  How  I'd  like  to  have  heard 
him  squeal,  ho,  ho." 

"What  will  Ben  do  next,  do  you  think?" 

"It's  hard  to  tell.  But  he'll  do  something,  mark 
my  word." 

"Yes,  if  we  don't  do  something  first." 

"What  d'ye  mean?" 

1 '  Simply  this,  that  he  has  been  attacking  long  enough, 
and  it  is  our  turn  now.  From  what  I  can  learn,  Ben 
and  his  father  have  been  riding  over  people  in  this 
parish  rough-shod  for  years,  and  no  one  has  had  the 
courage  to  oppose  them.  It  might  do  them  a  great  deal 
of  good  and  teach  them  a  useful  lesson  if  they  didn't 
have  everything  their  own  way." 

"D'ye  mean  to  buck  'em?"  Jake  enquired. 

"  I  am  going  to  do  more  than  buck,  Jake ;  I  am  going 
to  charge.  The  time  for  defensive  warfare  is  over; 
it  must  be  an  offensive  one  now,  and  we  are  in  a  good 
position  after  this  night's  racket." 

"What  are  ye  goin'  to  do,  John?  How  are  ye  goin* 
to  charge  'em?" 

"I  shall  tell  you  about  that  later.  I  am  too  tired 
and  sleepy  now,  so  I  am  off  to  bed." 

As  Douglas  rose  to  leave  the  room,  Empty  stepped 
forward.  He  had  been  listening  with  eyes  and  ears 
to  all  that  had  been  said,  and  he  grinned  with  delight 
as  the  meaning  of  the  offensive  warfare  dawned  slowly 
upon  his  mind.  What  a  choice  bit  of  news  he  would 
have  to  tell  his  mother.  She  would  forgive  him  for 
being  out  so  late  when  he  told  her  all  that  had  taken 
place  during  the  night. 

"Ma  sent  me  over  with  a  message  fer  you,"  he  began. 

"She  did,  eh?"  and  Douglas  turned  and  looked  upon 


COMPELLED  TO  SERVE  217 

the  lad.    "You  are  somewhat  late  in  delivering  it.    Is 
it  very  important  ?" 

"She  wants  to  know  if  ye '11  be  good  enough  to  come 
an'  see  her  as  soon  as  ye  kin,  an'  bring  yer  fiddle  with 

ye." 

"How  is  Jean?"  Douglas  asked.  Owing  to  the  excite- 
ment of  the  afternoon  and  night  he  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  sick  woman. 

"Oh,  I  guess  she's  jist  the  same,"  Empty  replied  as 
he  scratched  the  back  of  his  head.  "But  ma '11  tell  ye 
'bout  her  better 'n  I  kin.    Will  ye  come?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  I  can  if  she  does  not  want  me  too 
soon.  Tell  your  mother  that  I  shall  try  to  get  over  on 
Sunday.    I  am  afraid  I  cannot  get  there  before. ' ' 

Douglas  woke  about  daylight  and  heard  the  rain  beat- 
ing upon  the  roof.  How  good  it  sounded,  and  he  turned 
over  and  went  to  sleep  again.  It  was  late  when  he  once 
more  opened  his  eyes,  and  sprang  out  of  bed.  It  was 
ten  o'clock,  and  he  felt  ashamed  of  himself  for  having 
slept  so  long.  He  apologised  to  Mrs.  Jukes  when  he 
entered  the  kitchen,  and  told  her  that  she  had  better 
send  him  about  his  business  at  once,  as  he  was  a  most 
unprofitable  servant.  But  Mrs.  Jukes  only  laughed,  and 
ordered  him  to  sit  down  to  the  table  and  eat  his  break- 
fast, which  she  had  kept  waiting  for  him. 

"You  deserve  to  sleep  all  day,"  she  said,  "after  what 
you  did  last  night.  I  have  cooked  the  biggest  fresh  egg 
I  could  find  for  your  breakfast  as  your  reward." 

"So  Jake  has  told  you  all  about  it,  has  he?" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  told  me  everything  this  morning,  and 
he's  gone  to  the  store  to  get  me  some  starch.  But  he 
went  really  to  hear  the  news.  He's  anxious  to  know 
if  the  word  has  got  abroad,  and  what  people  are  say- 


218  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

ing  about  it.  They  generally  meet  at  the  store  when 
anything  of  importance  is  to  be  talked  about.  I  guess 
all  the  men  go  to  get  starch, ' '  she  added  with  a  twinkle 
in  her  eyes. 

Jake  returned  from  the  store  before  Douglas  had 
finished  his  breakfast,  and  laid  the  package  of  starch 
upon  the  table. 

"What's  the  news  this  morning?"  his  wife  asked, 
noting  the  disappointed  look  upon  his  face. 

"Nuthin',"  was  the  disgusted  reply.  "Not  a  soul 
in  the  store  but  the  clerk." 

1 '  Isn  't  that  strange  ? "  his  wife  questioned. 

"Naw,  not  strange  when  ye  come  to  think  it  over. 
Them  night  prowlers  wouldn't  say  a  word;  they're  too 
darn  scairt  an'  ashamed  of  themselves.  An'  as  fer  Ben, 
why  he'll  be  as  close  as  a  clam." 

"What  happened  to  the  daily  paper,  or  the  special 
news  agent,  I  should  say?"  Douglas  asked. 

"Who's  that?" 

"Empty,  of  course." 

"Oh,  I  f ergot  him,"  and  Jake  laughed.  "I  guess  he 
overslept  himself  this  mornin'.  But  he'll  be  on  his  job 
before  night,  though,  never  fear." 

"Who  is  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  in  this  place?" 
Douglas  asked,  as  he  pushed  back  his  chair  from  the 
table. 

"Justice  of  the  Peace!"  Jake  vaguely  repeated.  "I 
don't  know  of  any  sich  person  in  this  parish." 

"Yes,  you  do,"  his  wife  replied.  "It's  Squire  Haw- 
kins." 

"The  storekeeper?"  Douglas  queried. 

"The  very  same." 

"Does  he  ever  try  cases?" 


COMPELLED  TO  SERVE  219 

"Try  cases!"  and  Jake  rubbed  his  unshaven  chin, 
while  a  smile  lurked  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
"I  guess  the  only  cases  he  tries  are  the  boxes  which 
come  into  his  store." 

"But  isn't  he  called  upon  to  decide  questions,  such 
as  disputes,  and  other  matters  which  arise  in  almost 
every  parish?" 

"Never  heard  of  him  doin,  sich  things.  Si  Stubbles 
does  all  that." 

"Is  he  a  Justice  of  the  Peace?" 

"Oh,  no,  but  he  looks  after  sich  affairs  fer  all  that, 
an'  settles   'em  in  his  own  way." 

"And  Squire  Hawkins  is  only  a  J.P.  in  name,  then?" 

"That's  about  it." 

"Well,  then,  it  is  about  time  he  was  getting  to  work. 
I  shall  give  him  a  case  this  very  afternoon.  I  am  go- 
ing to  lay  a  complaint  before  him  about  last  night's 
affair." 

"Ye  are?"  Jake  asked  in  surprise.  "I  wish  ye  luck, 
but  I'm  afraid  ye  won't  accomplish  much." 

"Why?" 

"H'm,  that's  easy  to  explain.  Hen  Hawkins  is  un- 
der Si  Stubbles'  thumb.  He  won't  tech  the  case  'cause 
he's  afraid  of  Si." 

"What  has  Si  to  do  with  it?" 

"A  great  deal,  if  I'm  not  mistaken.  Him  an'  Ben 
are  both  at  the  bottom  of  last  night's  racket,  mark  my 
word.  Hen  would  be  scairt  most  to  death  to  do  any- 
thing that  would  uncover  their  doin's.  He'll  be  afraid 
of  losing'  Si's  trade.  Oh,  no,  I  guess  ye  won't  git  very 
fer  with  Hen  Hawkins,  even  though  he  is  a  J.P." 

Douglas  said  nothing  more  about  the  affair  just  then, 
though  what  he  had  heard  made  him  more  determined 


220  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

than  ever.  He  was  learning  more  and  more  what  a 
grip  Simon  Stubbles  had  over  Rixton,  and  this  added 
to  the  spirit  of  adventure  which  thrilled  his  soul.  Even 
the  Justice  of  the  Peace  was  forced  to  bow  to  Si's 
authority. 

Early  that  afternoon  Douglas  went  to  the  store  and 
enquired  for  Squire  Hawkins. 

"You  will  find  him  at  his  house,' '  the  clerk  informed 
him.     "He  has  not  returned  from  his  dinner  yet." 

Douglas  noticed  several  men  in  the  store  who  ceased 
their  earnest  conversation  as  he  entered.  He  surmised 
what  they  were  talking  about,  as  no  doubt  the  news 
was  already  abroad.  The  men  listened  very  attentively 
as  Douglas  questioned  the  clerk,  and  they  watched  him 
curiously. 

Douglas  had  seen  the  storekeeper  on  several  occasions 
but  had  never  met  him  personally.  A  common  farm- 
hand was  beneath  the  notice  of  such  a  man  as  Squire 
Hawkins,  who  prided  himself  upon  his  acquaintance 
with  men  of  money  and  position.  He  was  a  small-sized 
man,  fussy,  and  pompous  to  those  he  considered  his  in- 
feriors. He  did  not  even  show  common  courtesy  as 
Douglas  was  shown  into  the  room  where  he  was  seated 
in  an  easy  chair  reading  the  daily  paper.  He  did  not 
even  rise  to  receive  his  visitor,  but  in  a  gruff  voice  asked 
him  what  he  wanted. 

"You  are  a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  so  I  understand," 
Douglas  began. 

"Yes,  and  what  of  it?" 

As  briefly  and  concisely  as  possible  Douglas  stated  his 
case.  He  told  about  the  two  attacks  which  had  been 
made  upon  his  person,  and  of  the  breaking  into  Pro- 
fessor Strong's  house. 


COMPELLED  TO  SERVE  221 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  about  it?"  Squire 
Hawkins  curtly  asked. 

"You  should  know  without  my  telling  you,"  Doug- 
las replied.  He  was  becoming  nettled  at  this  man's 
insolence. 

"What,  what's  that  you  say?" 

"As  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  you  must  surely  know 
your  business.  I  have  told  you  what  has  happened, 
and  now  I  lay  a  complaint  before  you  against  threa 
men,  though  others  are  implicated  in  the  matter." 

1 '  Why  don 't  you  go  to  Mr.  Stubbles  ?  He  always  set* 
ties  such  matters. ' ' 

"Mr.  Stubbles  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  affair. 
He  is  not  a  Justice  of  the  Peace.  You  are,  though,  and 
it  is  to  you  I  look  for  justice." 

1 *  But  I  have  never  handled  a  case  in  my  life.  I  don 't 
know  what  to  do. ' ' 

"Then  it  is  time  you  began.  Why  did  you  accept 
the  office  if  you  know  nothing  about  it?" 

"Look  here,"  and  the  Squire's  face  became  red  witK 
anger.  "I  don't  wish  for  you  to  dictate  to  me  in  that 
manner.    Who  are  you,  anyway?" 

"I  am  John  Handyman,  working  for  Jake  Jukes  at 
present. ' ' 

"H'm.  And  so  you  expect  me  to  bother  my  head 
about  you?" 

"I  certainly  do,  and  what  is  more,  I  shall  see  that 
you  do  it,  even  though  I  am  only  a  hired  man." 

Something  in  Douglas'  voice  and  bearing  made  an  im- 
pression upon  Squire  Hawkins.  He  squirmed  uneasily 
in  his  chair  and  his  face  grew  redder  than  ever. 

1  *  Confound  it  all ! "  he  growled.  ' '  Why  do  you  bother 
me  with  this  matter?     What  reason  had  the  men  to 


222  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

attack  you?  They  were  only  sky-larking,  no  doubt. 
Having  a  bit  of  fun,  most  likely. ' ' 

"Mighty  poor  fun  for  me,  though,  especially  when 
the  cudgels  fell  upon  my  head.  I  don't  like  such  fun, 
and  I  want  you  to  take  steps  to  stop  it  in  the  future.'* 

"Who  are  the  men?"  the   Squire  asked. 

"I  only  know  the  names  of  three  at  present.  They 
are  Tom  Totten,  Pete  Rollins  and  Ben  Stubbles." 

"Ben  Stubbles!"  Squire  Hawkins  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise. "Surely  you  don't  expect  me  to  take  action 
against  him?" 

"I  certainly  do." 

"But  did  he  attack  you  last  night?" 

"No,  not  in  person,  but  he  was  the  one  who  supplied 
the  liquor  to  the  men,  and  ordered  them  to  waylay 
and  beat  me." 

Squire  Hawkins  did  not  at  once  reply  to  these  words. 
He  was  lost  in  thought  and  seemed  somewhat  worried. 
His  brow  knitted,  and  his  small  crafty  eyes  became  like 
two  narrow  slits. 

"I  am  afraid  I  can't  do  anything  for  you,"  he  at 
length  replied.  "It's  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  un- 
dertake your  case." 

"And  why  not?" 

"Oh,  there  are  personal  reasons  which  I  do  not  care 
to  explain." 

"Fear  of  the  Stubbles,  eh?" 

' '  They  are  good  customers  of  mine.  I  would  not  like 
to  offend  them." 

1 '  And  you  are  a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  a  man  appointed 
in  the  King's  name  to  preserve  law  and  order,  and  yet 
unwilling  to  see  that  justice  is  done  for  fear  of  having 


COMPELLED  TO  SERVE  223 

your  trade  injured.' '  Douglas  spoke  emphatically,  and 
his  words  caused  Squire  Hawkins  to  wince. 

"You  have  no  business  to  talk  to  me  that  way,"  he 
roared.  "If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  me  get  some- 
body else  to  attend  to  your  affairs." 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  Douglas  asked.  "Do  I  under- 
stand you  to  say  that  you  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
this  case,  and  that  I  must  get  some  one  else  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  that's  exactly  what  I  mean." 

"Very  well,  then,  I  shall  take  you  at  your  word. 
But  remember,  I  have  appealed  to  you  who  have  been 
legally  appointed  by  the  Crown.  You  have  refused 
to  act  in  this  case.  You  have  refused  to  see  justice 
done  to  an  innocent  man.  Do  you  know  what  that 
means?  If  not,  then  it  is  your  duty  to  know.  I  shall 
not  ask  you  again  to  assist  me.  I  am  going  to  the  city, 
and  one  of  the  ablest  lawyers  there  is  a  special  friend 
of  mine.  I  shall  place  the  matter  in  his  hands,  and 
you  will  be  forced  to  abide  by  the  consequences." 

Douglas  turned  and  had  almost  reached  the  door 
when  Squire  Hawkins  leaped  suddenly  from  his  chair. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  ordered.  "I  want  to  have  a 
few  more  words  with  you." 

"What  is  the  sense  of  our  talking  any  more?"  Doug- 
las asked  in  reply.  "You  refuse  to  conduct  this  case 
and  what  is  the  use  of  wasting  my  time?" 

"But  perhaps  something  might  be  done  yet.  I  feel 
that  I  might  comply  with  your  request  and  see  this 
affair  through." 

"And  you  will  summon  those  men  and  try  the  case 
yourself?" 

"Yes,  to  the  best  of  my  ability." 

"Where?" 


224  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"In  the  hall  at  the  Corner,  of  course.' ' 

"When?" 

"Will  Monday  at  three  o'clock  do?  That  will  give 
me  time  to  serve  the  summons  for  the  men  to  appear." 

"Yes,  that  will  suit  me  as  well  as  any  time.  You 
must  summon  the  witnesses  as  well.  I  shall  give  you 
their  names.  It  will  be  just  as  well  to  write  them  down 
so  as  to  make  no  mistake." 

Douglas  was  somewhat  surprised  at  the  readiness  of 
Squire  Hawkins  to  comply  with  his  suggestions.  He 
did  not  know  the  man  or  he  would  not  have  felt  so  sat- 
isfied. Had  he  really  known  what  was  in  his  mind, 
he  would  have  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  him  after 
his  first  refusal.  He  was  to  learn,  however,  of  his  mis- 
take later. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

DISPELLING  THE  CLOUDS 

DURING  the  night  the  clouds  rolled  away,  and 
Sunday  morning  dawned  warm  and  clear.  It 
was  good  to  be  abroad,  so  Douglas  thought,  as  he  walked 
along  the  road  with  his  violin  under  his  arm.  It  would 
soon  be  time  for  the  shoe-maker  to  begin  his  morning 
service,  and  he  knew  how  Joe  and  his  wife  would  enjoy 
a  little  music.  He  had  not  seen  the  former  since  Fri- 
day afternoon,  and  he  was  most  anxious  to  learn  the 
outcome  of  his  struggle  between  right  and  wrong. 

He  found  Mrs.  Benton  in  the  sitting-room,  rocking 
herself  to  and  fro  in  a  splint-bottom  chair.  Her  face 
was  thin  and  care-worn,  and  her  hair  seemed  whiter 
than  the  last  time  he  had  seen  her,  and  he  truthfully 
divined  the  cause. 

Mrs.  Benton's  face  brightened  as  her  visitor  entered 
the  room,  and  she  at  once  offered  him  a  chair. 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  come  this  morning,  sir,"  she 
told  him. 

"I  did  not  wish  to  miss  the  service,"  Douglas  replied. 
"I  thought  you  might  like  me  to  play  a  little,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  violin  which  he  had  placed  upon  the 
table. 

"I  fear  there  will  be  no  service  this  morning,"  and 
a  troubled  expression  came  into  Mrs.  Benton's  eyes  as 
she  spoke.     "Joe's  been  very  strange  of  late,  and  has 

225 


226  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

not  been  able  to  settle  down  to  his  work.  He  can't  eat 
nor  sleep,  and  I  am  greatly  worried  about  him." 

"He  is  grieving,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  about  poor  Jean." 

"Has  he  seen  her  lately?" 

"Not  since  Friday.  He  may  have  gone  to  see  her 
this  morning,  though,  for  he  left  here  about  half  an 
hour  ago,  but  he  didn't  tell  me  where  he  was  going. 
He  seems  like  a  man  in  a  dream." 

"He  didn't  go  down  the  road,  Mrs.  Benton,  or  I 
should  have  seen  him.  I  was  sitting  in  front  of  Jake's 
house  reading  for  some  time  before  I  left  to  come  here. ' ' 

"Oh,  he  didn't  go  that  way,  sir.  There  is  a  short- 
cut across  the  hills,  though  it  has  not  been  used  much 
of  late.  The  path  goes  up  just  in  front  of  our  house 
to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  then  turns  to  the  left.  Joe 
took  that  this  morning,  though  I  do  not  know  why,  as  he 
has  not  travelled  that  way  for  years.  Perhaps  he 
wishes  to  be  alone.  I  hope  he  is  not  going  to  do  any- 
thing desperate.  He  is  so  down-hearted  and  strange 
that  I  feel  terribly  worried  about  him." 

"I  am  going  over  to  Mrs.  Dempster's  to-day,"  Doug- 
las replied,  "as  she  sent  word  for  me  to  come  and  see 
her  as  soon  as  possible.  I  might  as  well  go  across  the 
hills  if  you  think  I  can  find  my  way.  Perhaps  I  shall 
meet  your  husband." 

1 '  That  will  be  very  good  of  you, ' '  and  Mrs.  Benton 's 
face  somewhat  brightened.  "You  should  have  no 
trouble  about  finding  the  way,  for  as  soon  as  you  reach 
the  top  of  the  hill  you  will  obtain  a  splendid  view  of 
the  river  and  the  surrounding  country.  Even  if  you 
cannot  find  any  path  up  there,  you  ought  to  be  able 
to  see  Mrs.  Dempster's  house  off  in  the  distance." 


DISPELLING  THE  CLOUDS  227 

"I  shall  make  out  all  right,  I  am  sure,"  Douglas 
replied,  as  he  rose  to  go.  "I  have  never  been  out  on 
the  hills,  so  it  will  be  nice  to  get  the  view  from  the 
top." 

He  found  the  climb  a  long  and  tiresome  one.  The 
hot  sun  seemed  to  strike  the  hillside  with  extra  in- 
tensity, and  there  was  not  a  breath  of  wind  abroad. 
Once  he  sat  down  under  the  shade  of  an  old  fir  tree 
and  mopped  his  hot  face  with  his  handkerchief.  Even 
from  here  the  view  of  the  river  was  magnificent,  and 
what  must  it  be  from  the  summit? 

When  at  length  he  gained  the  top,  he  stopped  and 
looked  around.  Then  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
awe  burst  from  his  lips  at  the  entrancing  panorama 
which  was  thus  suddenly  presented  to  his  view.  Miles 
and  miles  of  the  river,  unruffled  by  a  breath  of  wind, 
lay  glittering  in  the  sunshine.  Acres  of  meadow  land, 
dotted  with  houses,  and  broken  by  tracts  of  forest, 
stretched  out  before  him.  Peace  was  upon  land  and 
river.  It  was  a  magic  world  upon  which  he  gazed  with 
the  ardent  soul  of  a  lover  of  things  beautiful  and  grand. 

Having  thus  rested  and  revelled  in  Nature's  mar- 
vellous handiwork,  he  turned  and  looked  across  the 
hills  toward  Mrs.  Dempster's  house.  As  he  did  so  his 
eyes  caught  sight  of  a  lone  figure  sitting  upon  a  rock 
some  distance  away.  Feeling  sure  that  it  was  the  shoe- 
maker, he  hurried  forward  and  in  a  few  minutes  was 
by  his  side.  Joe  did  not  seem  at  all  surprised  at  the 
young  man's  presence,  although  his  weary  face  bright- 
ened a  little. 

"It  is  a  great  view  from  here,"  Douglas  began.  "I 
have  never  seen  anything  like  it." 

"What  do  you  see?"  the  old  man  asked. 


228  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Why,  the  river,  and  that  fine  stretch  of  country  to 
the  right  and  left." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you're  right,  though  I  have  not  no- 
ticed them  this  morning.  I  have  been  seeing  other 
things." 

"What  things?"  Douglas  enquired,  as  he  sat  down 
upon  the  rock  by  Joe's  side. 

"Jean,  of  course.  My  Jean  and  all  her  troubles  are 
ever  before  me.    I  can  see  nothing  else.    How  can  I?" 

"But  you  should,  Mr.  Benton.  Surely  you  have  not 
forgotten?" 

"Forgotten  what?" 

"The  strength  which  has  been  your  stay  for  long 
years.  You  remember  how  sad  and  dreary  was  the 
world  yesterday.  How  dismal  everything  appeared, 
with  not  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  sky.  But  look  now  at  all 
this,"  and  Douglas  threw  out  his  hand  in  an  eloquent 
gesture.  ' '  See  what  a  change  has  taken  place  in  a  short 
time.  The  greyness  is  gone,  and  look  how  blue  is  the 
sky,  and  how  bright  and  warm  the  sun.  Surely  He  who 
is  able  to  effect  such  a  marvellous  change  in  Nature 
in  such  a  few  hours,  will  not  forsake  His  servant  in  the 
hour  of  need.  Cheer  up,  sir,  and  do  not  be  so  down- 
hearted. Though  things  seem  dark  now,  yet  hope  for 
the  best,  and  trust  that  the  clouds  will  scatter  and  the 
shadows  will  flee  away." 

1 '  Your  words  are  full  of  wisdom, ' '  Joe  slowly  replied, 
"and  you  speak  like  a  man  who  has  known  trouble. 
But  have  you  ever  experienced  a  father's  sorrow  at  the 
loss  of  a  darling  child?  Can  you  look  back  through 
the  years  and  see  that  child  pure  and  beautiful,  loving 
and  true,  making  the  home  ring  with  her  happy  laugh- 
ter and  joyous  ways?  Then  at  last  to  see  her  degraded, 


DISPELLING  THE  CLOUDS  229 

half-demented,  a  total  wreck,  with  all  parental  love 
crushed  out  of  her  heart  like  my  Jean  over  there? 
Have  you  known  any  sorrow  like  that,  young  man?" 

"No,  indeed  I  have  not,"  Douglas  emphatically  re- 
plied. "Your  trouble  is  truly  great.  But  why  give 
up  in  despair?  Jean  is  still  alive,  and  she  may  yet  re- 
turn to  her  former  ways.  She  is  in  the  depths  now,  but 
this  Valley  of  Achor  may  be  to  her  a  door  of  hope,  as 
it  was  to  the  woman  we  read  of  in  the  Bible.  Sup- 
pose we  visit  her  now,  and  learn  how  she  is  getting 
along?  She  may  have  changed  as  much  since  you  saw 
her  last  as  Nature  has  changed  since  yesterday." 

Douglas  rose  to  his  feet  and  picked  up  his  violin. 

1 '  Come, ' '  and  he  laid  his  hand  affectionately  upon  the 
old  man's  shoulder,  "let  us  go  together.  We  may  be 
able  to  cheer  her  up  a  bit." 

Without  a  word  Joe  rose  slowly  to  his  feet  and  walked 
along  by  Douglas'  side.  Over  the  hill  they  moved  and 
then  down  into  the  valley  below.  The  path,  now  worn 
deep  by  the  feet  of  cows,  for  this  region  was  pasture 
land,  wound  through  a  swamp  where  they  had  to  pick 
their  way  owing  to  the  water  which  settled  here.  Up 
a  steep  bank  they  scrambled,  and  when  they  at  last 
gained  the  top  they  came  in  sight  of  Mrs.  Dempster's 
house  but  fifty  yards  beyond. 

The  widow  was  sitting  under  the  shade  of  an  apple 
tree  near  the  front  door,  with  Empty  lying  full  length 
upon  the  ground  by  her  side.  They  were  both  some- 
what startled  and  surprised  at  the  sudden  appearance 
of  the  two  men  from  such  an  unexpected  quarter. 

"Well,  bless  my  stars!"  Mrs.  Dempster  exclaimed,  ris- 
ing quickly  and  giving  the  shoe-maker  her  chair.  "Ye 
look  fagged  out,  poor  man,  an*  no  wonder  fer  comin' 


230  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

over  the  hills.  It's  not  often  any  one  travels  that  way 
now,  though  John  always  took  that  short-cut  to  the  store 
when  he  was  alive.  He  was  a  great  man  fer  short-cuts, 
was  John.    I  wish  Empty  here  was  more  like  his  pa." 

' '  I  don 't  like  short-cuts, ' '  her  son  replied.  ' '  Ye  don 't 
see  nuthin',  an'  ye  don't  hear  nuthin'." 

"An'  ye  can't  tell  nuthin',"  his  mother  retorted. 
"That's  why  ye  don't  like  short-cuts." 

"I  believe  you  sent  for  me,  Mrs.  Dempster,"  Doug- 
las remarked.    "I  was  sorry  I  could  not  come  sooner." 

"Oh,  there  was  no  special  hurry.  A  day  or  two 
doesn't  make  much  difference.  But  I  thought  if  ye 
brought  ye'r  fiddle  an'  played  a  little  it  might  cheer 
the  poor  lassie  up  a  bit." 

"How  is  she?"  Joe  eagerly  asked,  leaning  forward 
so  as  not  to  miss  a  word. 

"Doin'  as  well  as  kin  be  expected.  She's  alone  now," 
and  the  widow's  voice  became  low.  "But  I  guess  it's 
all  fer  the  best.  I  wasn't  in  the  least  surprised,  con- 
siderin'  what  she's  gone  through.  It'll  be  as  much  as 
she  kin  do  to  make  her  own  way  in  life,  an '  I  told  her  so 
jist  as  soon  as  she  was  willin'  to  listen  to  reason." 

"Is  she  much  depressed?"  Douglas  asked. 

"All  the  time,  sir,  an'  that's  what  worries  me.  She 
broods  an'  broods,  an'  sighs  an'  sighs,  poor  thing,  till 
my  heart  aches  fer  her. ' ' 

"And  nothing  will  cheer  her  up?" 

"Nuthin'  that  me  an'  Empty  kin  do  an'  say,  so  that's 
the  reason  why  I  sent  fer  you.  I  thought  mebbe  a  little 
music  might  have  some  effect.  I've  heard  read  from 
the  Bible  in  church  that  when  old  King  Saul  was  down 
in  the  dumps,  an'  dear  knows  he  deserved  to  be,  the 
cloud  passed  from  his  mind  when  David,  the  shepherd 


DISPELLING  THE  CLOUDS  231 

lad,  brought  his  harp  an'  played  before  him.  Now, 
sez  I  to  meself ,  sez  I,  '  if  that  old  feller  with  all  his  cuss- 
edness  could  be  cured  in  that  way,  why  can't  a  poor, 
dear,  troubled  lassie  like  Jean  Benton?'  An'  so  sez  I  to 
Empty,  'Go  an'  see  if  that  wrestler  won't  come,'  sez  I. 
"We've  always  called  ye  'the  wrestler,'  sir,  since  ye  put 
Jake  Jukes  on  his  back.  '  Mebbe  he  '11  bring  his  fiddle  an ' 
play  a  few  old-fashioned  tunes  to  chase  the  shadder 
from  the  poor  thing's  brain.     I  hope  ye  won't  mind." 

"Not  at  all,"  Douglas  replied.  "I  shall  be  only  too 
pleased  to  do  anything  I  can.  Shall  I  go  into  the 
house?" 

"I've  been  thinkin*  that  mebbe  it  would  be  better  to 
play  out  of  doors.  Her  winder  is  open,  so  if  ye'd  jist 
go  under  the  shade  of  that  tree  there,  she'd  hear  ye 
quite  plain,  but  won't  be  able  to  see  ye.  I  don't  want 
her  to  think  that  the  music  is  fer  her  special  benefit." 

Following  Mrs.  Dempster's  directions,  Douglas  went 
to  the  tree  and  leaning  his  back  against  the  bole  began 
to  play  a  number  of  old  familiar  hymns.  It  was  a 
peculiar  situation  in  which  he  thus  found  himself,  and 
he  wondered  what  the  result  would  be.  He  had  entered 
enthusiastically  into  the  widow's  little  plan,  and  he 
never  played  so  effectively  as  he  did  this  morning.  He 
felt  that  a  great  deal  was  at  stake,  and  he  must  do  his 
best.  He  recalled  how  a  certain  woman  had  taken  him 
to  task  when  she  learned  that  he  played  the  violin, 
which  she  called  the  "devil's  snare"  for  luring  people 
to  destruction.  He  had  tried  to  reason  with  the  woman, 
but  to  no  avail.  He  believed  if  she  knew  what  a  bless- 
ing his  playing  had  been  to  so  many  people  she  would 
really  change  her  mind. 

Douglas  had  been  playing  for  some  time  when  hi« 


232  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

attention  was  attracted  by  the  shoe-maker,  who  had  risen 
from  the  chair  and  was  walking  toward  the  house.  No 
sooner  had  he  entered  by  the  back  door  than  Mrs. 
Dempster  followed.  Douglas  went  on  with  his  music, 
at  the  same  time  wondering  what  was  in  their  minds. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait,  however,  for  presently  the 
widow  came  to  the  door  and  beckoned  him  to  come.  He 
at  once  obeyed,  and  crossed  over  to  where  she  was 
standing. 

"Don't  make  any  noise,"  she  warned,  "but  f oiler 
me.    I  want  to  show  ye  something. ' ' 

Tiptoeing  across  the  floor,  Mrs.  Dempster  led  him 
to  the  door  of  the  little  room  where  the  invalid  was 
lying.  Pausing  just  at  the  entrance  and  looking  in,  the 
sight  which  met  his  eyes  was  most  impressive.  Bending 
over  the  bed  was  Joe  with  his  face  close  to  Jean's, 
whose  arms  were  clasped  about  her  father's  neck. 
They  were  both  sobbing,  though  neither  uttered  a  word. 
Douglas  grasped  the  whole  situation  in  an  instant,  and 
turning,  he  quietly  retreated  through  the  kitchen  and 
out  of  doors.  He  was  at  once  joined  by  Mrs.  Demp- 
ster. Tears  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  and  Doug- 
las' own  eyes  were  moist. 

"What  d'ye  think  of  that,  now?"  the  good  woman 
questioned. 

"We  have  no  business  to  be  there,"  was  the  solemn 
reply.  ' '  That  is  too  sacred  a  scene  for  inquisitive  eyes. 
We  must  leave  them  alone." 

"It  was  the  music  which  done  it,  sir;  I  knew  it 
would." 

"Not  altogether,  Mrs.  Dempster.    Not  altogether." 

"Ye  think  the  Good  Lord  had  a  hand  in  it,  too?" 

"Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  about  it." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

EMPTY  HEARS  SOMETHING 

IT  was  past  mid-day,  and  Douglas  was  about  to  leave 
for  home  when  Mrs.  Dempster  detained  him. 

"Don't  go  yit,  sir,"  she  told  him.  "Stop  an'  have 
a  bite  with  us.  Empty  11  feel  mighty  pleased  if  ye  will. 
We  haven't  much  for  dinner,  but  ye'r  welcome  to  what 
we  have,  an'  we'll  eat  it  right  under  the  shade  of  that 
big  apple  tree.  We  ginerally  do  that  on  bright  Sun- 
days, f er  dear  knows  we  eat  often  enough  in  the  house. '  * 

The  widow  was  greatly  pleased  when  Douglas  con- 
sented to  stay,  and  at  once  roused  her  son  to  action. 

"Hi,  thar,  Empty,"  she  called,  "wake  up  an'  git  a 
hustle  on.  I  want  a  pail  of  water,  an'  then  ye  kin 
carry  out  the  dishes.  I  do  believe  that  boy'd  sleep  all 
the  time,"  she  grumbled.  Nevertheless,  she  watched 
him  with  motherly  pride  as  he  slowly  rose  from  the 
ground,  stretched  himself  and  looked  around. 

"Ain't  dinner  ready  yit,  ma?"  he  asked.  "I'm  most 
starved  t'  death." 

"No,  it  ain't,  an'  it  won't  be  to-day  if  ye  don't  hurry. 
We've  special  company  fer  dinner  an'  I  want  ye  to 
behave  yerself .  If  ye  do,  I  '11  give  ye  an  extry  piece  of 
strawberry  shortcake." 

Douglas  was  greatly  amused  at  the  conversation  and 
candour  of  the  mother  and  son.  They  understood  each 
other  perfectly,  and  were  not  the  least  bit  abashed  at 

233 


234  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

the  presence  of  strangers.  There  was  no  polished  veneer 
about  the  widow's  hospitality.  She  did  not  pretend  to 
be  what  she  was  not.  She  knew  that  she  was  poor  and 
was  not  ashamed  of  it.  She  was  perfectly  natural,  and 
indulged  in  no  high-flown  airs. 

But  Mrs.  Dempster  was  a  good  manager,  a  capable 
housekeeper  and  an  excellent  cook.  The  table-cloth  she 
spread  upon  the  grass  under  the  tree  was  spotless. 

"We  used  this  on  our  weddin'  day,"  she  informed 
Douglas  who  was  watching  her.  "Dear  old  Parson 
Winstead  married  us  in  the  church,  an'  then  he  came 
over  an'  had  dinner  with  us.  Me  an'  John  had  the 
house  all  fixed  up,  an'  some  of  the  neighbours  helped 
with  the  dinner.  My,  them  was  great  days,"  and  she 
gave  a  deep  sigh  as  she  stood  for  a  moment  looking  off 
across  the  field.  "We  was  all  equal  then,  jist  like  one 
big,  happy  family,  an'  good  Parson  Winstead  was  to 
us  like  a  father.  But,  goodness  me!  if  I  keep  gassin' 
this  way,  dinner '11  never  be  ready,"  and  she  hurried 
off  to  the  kitchen. 

When  Mrs.  Dempster  brought  Joe  from  the  house 
he  was  a  greatly  changed  man.  His  step  was  elastic, 
his  head  erect  and  his  eyes  shone  with  a  new  hope.  He 
ate  well,  too,  almost  the  first  he  had  eaten  in  several 
days,  so  he  informed  his  companions. 

It  was  a  pleasant  company  which  gathered  under  the 
shade  of  the  old  apple  tree.  Empty  had  received  his 
second  piece  of  strawberry  shortcake,  and  was  satisfied. 
When  dinner  was  over,  he  once  more  stretched  himself 
out  upon  the  ground  and  resumed  the  sleep  which  his 
mother  had  disturbed. 

During  the  meal  Mrs.  Dempster  had  been  flitting  to 
and  fro  between  the  house  and  the  apple  tree.     There 


EMPTY  HEARS  SOMETHING  235 

was  always  something  she  had  to  attend  to,  so  she  ex- 
plained when  Douglas  remonstrated,  telling  her  that 
she  should  eat  something  herself,  and  never  mind  the 
rest.  But  she  would  not  listen,  as  she  had  to  look  after 
the  fire,  get  a  plateful  of  doughnuts,  and  most  impor- 
tant of  all,  to  see  how  the  invalid  was  making  out  with 
her  dinner. 

"The  poor  dear  has  eaten  more  than  she  has  any 
time  since  she's  been  sick,"  she  told  them  with  pride, 
after  one  of  her  visits  to  the  house.  "An'  there's  a 
little  tinge  of  colour,  too,  in  her  white  cheeks,  an'  she 
really  smiled  an'  thanked  me  when  I  took  her  in  her 
dinner. ' ' 

"That  is  encouraging,  isn't  it?"  Douglas  asked.  Joe 
said  nothing  though  his  eyes  never  left  the  widow's  face, 
and  he  listened  almost  breathlessly  to  her  slightest  word 
about  Jean. 

"It  is  a  good  sign,"  Mrs.  Dempster  replied,  as  she 
sat  upon  the  ground  and  poured  for  herself  a  cup  of 
tea.  "An'  it's  another  good  sign  that  she  wants  to 
see  you,  sir." 

"See  me!"  Douglas  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "Why 
is  that  a  good  sign  ? ' ' 

"  'Cause  she  hasn't  wanted  to  see  any  one  since  she's 
been  sick." 

"What  does  she  want  to  see  me  for?" 

"To  thank  ye  for  playin',  most  likely.  She  made 
me  tell  her  who  it  was,  as  she  was  most  curious  to  know. 
She's  takin'  an  interest  in  things  now,  an'  that's  en- 
couragin'." 

When  Mrs.  Dempster  had  finished  her  dinner,  she  rose 
to  her  feet  and  informed  Douglas  that  she  was  ready 
to  take  him  to  see  Jean. 


236  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"You  jist  make  yerself  comfortable,  Joe,  an*  111 
be  back  in  a  jiffy.  Lean  aginst  that  tree  an*  rest  ye'r 
poor  old  back.  It's  always  good  to  have  something 
to  lean  aginst.  Since  John  died  Empty 's  the  only  thing 
I've  got  to  lean  aginst,  though  I  must  say  he's  mighty 
wobbly  at  times." 

Douglas  followed  Mrs.  Dempster  into  the  little  bed- 
room off  the  kitchen  where  the  invalid  girl  was  lying. 
He  was  somewhat  startled  by  the  marked  contrast  be- 
tween Jean's  white  face  and  her  jet-black  hair  which 
was  flowing  over  the  pillow  in  rich  confusion.  She 
smiled  as  she  reached  out  her  thin  hand  and  welcomed 
the  visitor. 

"Ye'd  better  set  right  down  here,  sir,"  Mrs.  Demp- 
ster advised,  as  she  drew  up  a  chair.  "I'm  goin'  to 
leave  yez  to  have  a  nice  little  chat  while  I  clear  up 
the  dinner  dishes.  It'll  do  ye  a  heap  of  good,  won't  it, 
dear?"  and  she  stroked  Jean's  head.  "But  ye  mustn't 
talk  too  much." 

Douglas  glanced  around  the  little  room.  It  was  a 
cosy  place,  and  the  partly-opened  window  let  in  the 
fresh  air  from  the  surrounding  fields,  together  with 
the  sound  of  the  twitter  of  birds  and  the  hum  of  bees. 

"This  was  my  room,"  the  widow  explained,  "until 
Jean  took  possession  of  it.  She  wanted  to  stay  right 
close  to  me  an'  wouldn't  go  to  the  spare-room  off  the 
parlour.  I  haven't  had  time  to  fix  it  up,  an'  I've  asked 
Empty  time  an'  time  agin  to  git  somethin'  to  put  over 
that  stove-pipe  hole  in  the  wall,  an'  that  one  in  the 
ceilin '.  But  my  land !  ye  might  as  well  save  ye  'r  breath 
as  to  ask  that  boy  to  do  anything.  But,  there  now,  1 
must  be  off." 


EMPTY  HEARS  SOMETHING  237 

The  good  woman's  face  was  beaming  as  she  left  the 
house  and  went  back  to  the  apple  tree. 

"Where's  Empty?"  she  demanded  of  Joe,  when  she 
discovered  that  the  lad  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  reply.  "He  got  up  just 
after  you  left,  but  I  didn't  notice  where  he  went." 

"That's  jist  like  the  boy.  He's  never  around  when 
he's  wanted.  He  does  try  my  patience  at  times,"  and 
the  widow  gave  a  deep  sigh  as  she  began  to  gather  up 
the  dishes. 

In  the  meantime,  Jean  and  Douglas  were  engaged 
in  an  earnest  conversation.  It  was  somewhat  con- 
strained at  first,  but  this  feeling  shortly  vanished. 

"It  was  so  good  of  you  to  play  for  me,"  Jean  re- 
marked. "I  feel  better  than  I  have  for  days.  I  guess 
the  music  has  chased  the  clouds  away." 

"I  am  so  thankful  that  I  have  been  able  to  help  you," 
Douglas  replied.    "You  have  had  a  hard  time  of  late." 

"Indeed  I  have.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  had  a 
terrible  dream.     Oh,  it  was  horrible." 

"You  must  forget  all  about  that  now,  and  get  well 
as  soon  as  possible." 

Why  should  I  get  better?     What  have  I  to  live 
for?" 

"You  must  live  for  your  parents'  sake,  if  for  noth- 
ing else.     They  have  been  heart-broken  over  you." 

"I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  and  Jean  placed  her  hands 
to  her  face  as  if  to  hide  a  vision  which  rose  suddenly 
before  her.  "But  you  do  not  know  my  past  life.  You 
have  little  idea  how  I  have  suffered,  both  mentally  and 
bodily." 

"Perhaps  I  understand  more  than  you  imagine.  Any- 


238  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

way,  I  know  how  you  looked  the  night  I  dragged  you 
out  of  the  water  at  Long  Wharf." 

Douglas  never  forgot  the  expression  which  over- 
spread Jean's  face  as  he  uttered  these  words.  Her 
large  dark  eyes  grew  wide  with  amazement  and  a  name- 
less terror.  She  clutched  the  bed-clothes  with  her  tense 
hands,  and  made  a  motion  as  if  to  rise. 

"  Please  do  not  get  excited,  Miss  Benton,"  he  urged. 
"I  would  not  mention  this  now,  only  there  is  much  at 
stake,  and  I  want  your  assistance." 

"And  it  was  you  who  saved  me?"  she  gasped. 

"Yes,  with  the  help  of  an  old  tug-boatman.  I  saw 
Ben  Stubbles  push  you  off  the  wharf  into  the  harbour 
and  then  leave  you  to  your  fate." 

"  Oh ! "  It  was  all  that  Jean  could  say,  as  the  terrible 
memory  of  that  night  swept  over  her. 

"Have  you  seen  Ben  lately?"  Douglas  asked. 

"Not  since  the  night  of  the  dance  at  the  hall." 

"There  is  good  reason  why  he  doesn't  come  to  see 
you,  is  there  not?" 

"Indeed  there  is,"  and  Jean's  eyes  flashed  with  a  sud- 
den light  of  anger.  "Nell  Strong  has  taken  him  from 
me;  that's  what  she  has  done.  Oh,  I'll  get  even  with 
her  yet." 

"You  are  altogether  mistaken.  Ben  is  the  one  to 
blame.  Miss  Strong  has  not  wronged  you.  She  dis- 
likes the  man,  and  has  refused  to  have  anything  more 
to  do  with  him." 

"But  why  did  she  meet  him  nigbt  after  night  by 
that  old  tree  in  front  of  her  home,  tell  me  that?" 

"She  was  afraid  of  the  Stubbles,  both  father  and 
son.  Simon  Stubbles  has  a  mortgage  on  the  Strong 
place,  and  if  she  turned  Ben  away  and  would  not  meet 


EMPTY  HEARS  SOMETHING  239 

him,  the  little  home  would  have  been  taken.  Miss  Strong 
has  done  it  now,  however,  and  so  I  suppose  the  home 
will  go." 

"Are  you  sure  of  what  you  say?"  Jean  asked  in  a 
low  voice. 

"Yes,  I  am  certain.  Ben  has  been  using  every  effort 
to  win  Miss  Strong,  and  he  is  very  angry  at  me  because 
he  imagines  that  I  have  turned  her  against  him.  The 
professor  and  his  daughters  have  been  very  kind  to  me, 
and  on  several  occasions  I  have  been  at  their  house. 
Once,  on  my  way  home,  Ben  had  two  men  lying  in  wait 
for  me  with  clubs.  Fortunately,  I  was  able  to  defend 
myself,  and  so  escaped  serious  injury." 
•  "Are  you  positive  it  was  Ben  who  set  them  on?"  Jean 
asked- 

*  Oh,  yes,  there  is  no  doubt  about  it.  I  found  a  let- 
ter from  him  in  the  pocket  of  the  coat  of  one  of  the 
men  who  attacked  me.  I  have  the  coat  now  in  my 
possession  as  well  as  the  letter.  The  latter  speaks  for 
itself." 

"And  so  Ben  did  that!"  Jean  murmured  to  herself. 

"But  that  is  not  all,  Miss  Benton.  You  have  heard, 
I  suppose,  what  he  did  Friday  night?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Dempster  has  told  me  all  about  it.  And 
you  think  Ben  was  back  of  that,  too?" 

"Indeed  he  was.  The  two  men  we  caught  said  so, 
and  they  are  to  swear  to  it  at  the  trial,  and  bring  the 
other  men  who  were  with  them." 

"Will  there  be  a  trial?" 

"It  will  be  held  to-morrow  in  the  hall  at  the  Corner. 
I  am  going  to  put  a  stop  to  such  attacks  and  bring  the 
guilty  ones  to  task,  if  it  is  at  all  possible.  It  is  a  very 
strange  thing  for  one  family  to  rule  a  community  like 


240  THE  UNKNOWN  WKESTLER 

this,  persecute  innocent  men,  and  drive  them  from  the 
parish.  It  is  a  mystery  to  me  that  the  people  have  per- 
mitted it  for  so  long." 

"Who  will  conduct  the  trial?"  Jean  enquired. 

"Squire  Hawkins.  He  is  the  only  Justice  of  the 
Peace  here." 

"But  he  won't  dare  do  anything  to  Ben.  He  is 
frightened  almost  to  death  of  the  Stubbles." 

"I  know  he  is,  and  for  that  reason  I  want  your  as- 
sistance. ' ' 

"What  can  I  do?"  Jean  asked  in  surprise. 

"You  can  tell  what  Ben  did  to  you  at  Long  Wharf. 
That  will  prove  what  a  villain  he  really  is.  Why,  he 
intended  to  drown  you  that  night,  and  he  would  have 
succeeded  if  I  had  not  happened  to  be  present.  You 
can  make  your  sworn  statement  to  Squire  Hawkins  who 
can  come  here,  so  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  you  to 
go  to  the  trial." 

Jean  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  at  these  words 
and  remained  very  silent.  Douglas  watched  her  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  a  deep  pity  for  this  unfortunate 
woman  came  into  his  heart. 

"Come,"  he  urged,  "won't  you  back  me  up?  I  have 
entered  into  this  fight  and  need  all  the  assistance  I  can 
get.  If  I  am  defeated,  no  one  will  dare  to  undertake 
such  a  thing  again."  , 

"I  can't  do  it,"  Jean  moaned.  "Oh,  I  can't  tell  on 
Ben." 

"Why  not?  He  tried  to  drown  you,  and  he  cares 
for  you  no  longer.  He  is  a  menace  to  the  whole  com- 
munity. ' ' 

' '  I  know  it,  I  know  it, ' '  the  girl  sobbed.  ' '  But  I  shall 
never  tell  on  Ben,  no,  never." 


EMPTY  HEARS  SOMETHING  241 

"But  he  has  ruined  your  whole  life,  remember,  and 
he  may  ruin  others  as  innocent  as  you  were,  if  he  is 
not  stopped.    Think  of  that." 

''Haven't  I  thought  of  it  day  and  night,  until  I  have 
been  about  crazy?  But  it  is  no  use,  I  cannot  tell  on 
him." 

"And  are  you  willing  to  let  him  go  free  that  he  may 
do  the  same  villainous  things  in  the  future  that  he  has 
done  in  the  past  ?  A  word  from  you  will  stir  the  parish 
to  its  very  depths.  If  the  people  only  knew  what  Ben 
did  to  you  at  Long  Wharf  that  night,  they  would  rise 
and  drive  him  from  the  place.  If  I  told  what  I  know 
they  would  not  believe  me.  But  if  you  confirm  what 
I  say,  that  will  make  all  the  difference." 

"Please  do  not  urge  me,"  Jean  pleaded.  "I  cannot 
do  it." 

"You  must  love  him  still." 

"No,  I  do  not  love  him  now,"  and  the  girl's  voics 
was  low. 

"What  hinders  you,  then,  from  telling?" 

"It  is  the  love  I  had  for  him  in  the  past.  That  is 
one  of  the  sweet  memories  of  my  life.  Nothing  can 
ever  take  it  from  me.  No  matter  what  he  has  done, 
and  no  matter  what  may  happen  to  me,  it  is  something 
to  look  back  upon  those  days  which  are  almost  sacred 
to  me  now.  But  there,  it  is  no  use  for  me  to  say  any- 
thing more.  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  explain,  and  harder, 
perhaps,  for  you  to  understand." 

With  a  deep  sigh  of  weariness,  Jean  closed  her  eyes 
and  turned  her  face  on  the  pillow.  Knowing  that  noth- 
ing more  could  be  accomplished,  and  chiding  himself 
that  he  had  tired  her,  Douglas  rose  to  go. 

"Just  a  moment,  please,"  Jean  said,  as  she  again 


242  THE  UNKNOWN*  WRESTLER 

opened  her  eyies.    "  Are  you  sure  that  Nell  does  not  care 
for  Ben?    Tell  me  o&c&taore."  t  erf 

''Miss  Strong  .told  me" so  herself,"  Douglas | replied. 
Then  in  a  few  words  he  -related  Hie  soeife  Ihat^hadHaken 
place  in  front  Of  the  Jukes '  ^oUs#  on  Fri'da^afternoori. 
"  Doesn't  that  prove  the  truth  of  what  I  have  saM$" 
he  asked  in  ^Oncteioa;  :  •■■  a*  yaiUiTi  a  \  9iB  I  .:/-" 

"Thank  you  very  much/'  was  the  only  reply  that 
Jean,  maa^-as  she  again  closed  her  eyes  and  turned 
her  face  toward  the  wall. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon-wnen  Empty 
came  out  of  kk&  Souse  and  $t rolled  over  to  where  his 
mother  was  sitting  atene  under  the 'apple  tree. 

"  Where  in  the  world  have  you->been?'"  she  demanded 
as  he  approac&gd,  I  Q&&  "-sin  9311;  ton  ob  total* 

" Asleep,"  and  the  boy  gave  a  great  yawn  and 
stretched  himself.  ".Hit?  add  9. 

*  '  Weil;~Ir^ctae !' '  /.When  will  ye*  ever  git  enough 
sleep  ?  Ye  11  have  nuthin '  but  a  sheep 's  head  if  ye 
keep  on  thfs^wa^/'  :  «fl9rit  .hot  zisbaid  tadW" 
al  S»m£ty*na3d««!rncr  repfy  ;as  rW  iafc  down:  upon  the 
ground  'by< his^other %  side: 0  .Hei  was5  too  'happy  to 
take  offence  at  anything  she^migfefci  say.  *:He  hid*  heard 
^gr^at  piece  of  news  through  the  stove-pipe  iaole  in  the 
ceiling  of  the  little  b^droojni  JDiripty  had  &  imputation 
-to  sustain,  and"hlsfc^nsdef^e;neveifTWc^led^ham  as  to 
•how  His  news^w8&  ODtainecfi  tlno&ib  zi  il    .am 

" .ba&fiviabnn  oi  i/ov  io\  ^qfidisq 
!iiiB97/  lo  rigig  q99b  r  diiT? 
-xlJon  tijxft  viamoaX    .v/olliq  odl  no  dool  iad  bus 

.Aiihido  bus  fbsrf8iIqmo9Dfl  ad  bluoo  eiom 
.org  ot  a&  >(J  /13d  b9iit  bfi:; 


JT83HW  v;tiq.  hit 

.jhsb  imII      .jloen  ior!  bniroiB   bsnsJgfil   cisrfo   sJBOfBb 

77?i  b  ifeuorit  ,2lofid  vJkrtaiBo  bsismd  zbw  •rifirf  Jflfihuxol 

•Aseih   isvo   Yl^nbqmsJ    bsjlhb    898831*   bisv 

rarg  iiab  isH     .-      ' 

[tfigtSTfloo  aid 

PERVITINS  JUSTICE- 

I 

OUGLAS  did. not  remain  long  ^  Mrs.  Dempster's 
after  his  conversation  with  Jean.     Bidding  the 
widow  and  Joe  good-bye,  he  made  his  way  swiftly  across  8 
the- fields-  by  a  well-worn  path  to  the-  main  highway. 
He  was  anxious  to  see  Nell  as  she  had  been  much  in, 
his  niind  since  the  night  of  the  attack.     To  his  joy,  he 
found  her  sitting  alone  by  the  big  tree  on  the  shore  with ,. 
a  book  lying  open  in  her  lap.    An  expression  of  pleas- 
ure overspread  her  faoe  as.  she  welcomed  her  visitor, 
and  offered  him  a  chair  by  her  side. 

"Father  was  sitting  here,"  she  explained,  "but  he 
beirame  unusually  sleepy  this  afternoon,  so  he  is  now 
lying  down  in  the  hoitse.     Xan  is  out  in  the  boat  with, 
Sadie  Parks,  a  girl  friend,  gathering  water-lilies,  so  I 
been  having  a-  quiet  time  all  by  myself."    ,g» 
I  most  remarkable  thing  for  you,  is  it  not?"  Doug-- 
laa  asked,  mentally  blessing  the,  professor  for  becoming, 
sleepy,  and  Nan  for  going  for  the  lilies. 

"It  y  is.    It  has  been  a  long  time  since  I  have: 

not  read  to  father  every  Sunday  afternoon." 

It  seemed  to  Douglas  as  if  heaven  had  suddenly 
opened  to  him  as  he  sat  there  by  Nell's  side.  She 
lfol|ed.  mpre:bwitifu]  -than  ever,  so  he  thought*  clad, 
in  a  simple  dress  of  snowy  whiteness,  open  at  the 
throat,  exposing  a  little   gold   cross,  pendant  from   a 

243 


244  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

delicate  chain  fastened  around  her  neck.  Her  dark, 
luxuriant  hair  was  brushed  carefully  back,  though  a  few 
wayward  tresses  drifted  temptingly  over  cheek  and 
brow.  Her  dark  sympathetic  eyes  beamed  with  inter- 
est as  Douglas  related  his  experiences  of  the  day,  and 
his  conversation  with  the  invalid  girl. 

"I  am  so  thankful  that  Jean  knows  the  truth,"  she 
quietly  remarked  when  Douglas  had  finished.  "But 
isn't  it  terrible  what  Ben  did  to  her  at  Long  Wharf! 
I  knew  he  was  bad,  but  I  had  no  idea  he  would  do  such 
a  thing  as  that." 

Further  private  conversation  was  now  out  of  the 
question  on  account  of  Nan's  arrival  with  her  girl 
friend.  She  was  carrying  a  large  bunch  of  dripping 
white  water-lilies,  which  she  flung  down  upon  the 
ground. 

"My,  what  a  nice  little  cosy  time  you  two  are  hav- 
ing," she  exclaimed.  "It  is  too  bad  that  you  have  to 
be  disturbed." 

"It  certainly  is,"  Douglas  laughingly  replied.  "We 
were  quite  happy  here  by  ourselves.  Why  didn't  you 
stay  longer  out  on  the  river?" 

"Because  I  don't  like  to  see  people  too  happy,  that 
is  the  reason, ' '  and  Nan  flopped  herself  down  upon  the 
ground,  and  began  to  weave  a  wreath  of  lilies  with 
her  deft  fingers.  "Come,  Sadie,"  she  ordered,  "you 
make  one,  too.  My,  it's  hot!  Nell's  always  cool  and 
never  flustered,"  she  continued,  as  she  snapped  off 
a  stem  and  tucked  a  lily  into  its  proper  place. 

"It's  necessary  for  some  one  to  be  cool,"  her  sister 
replied.  "I  do  not  know  what  would  happen  if  I 
didn't  try  to  keep  my  senses." 

Nan  merely  tossed  her  head  and  went  on  with  her 


PERVERTING  JUSTICE  245 

work.  She  was  certainly  a  remarkable  specimen  of 
healthy,  buoyant  girlhood,  with  face  aglow  and  eyes 
sparkling  with  animation.  What  a  subject  she  would 
make  for  an  artist,  Douglas  mused  as  he  watched  her 
as  she  worked  and  talked. 

"  There/ '  Nan  at  length  cried,  as  she  held  up  her 
finished  wreath  for  inspection.  "Give  it  to  the  fairest, 
sir,"  she  dramatically  demanded. 

"The  Judgment  of  Paris,  eh?"  Douglas  smiled. 

"No;  your  judgment. " 

"That  would  be  rather  embarrassing,  would  it  not?" 

"I  dare  you  to  do  it,"  and  she  dangled  the  wreath 
before  him. 

"Come,  come,  Nan,"  Nell  chided.  "Don't  be  fool- 
ish.    You  make  Mr.  Handyman  feel  badly." 

"That's  just  what  I  want  to  do.  He  has  neglected 
me,  and  I  want  to  punish  him." 

"Give  me  the  wreath,"  and  Douglas  stretched  out 
his  hand. 

Rising  to  his  feet,  he  placed  the  beautiful  lilies  upon 
Nell's  head,  and  then  stepped  back  to  view  the  effect. 

"There,"  and  he  turned  to  Nan,  "I  have  accepted 
your  dare,  so  I  hope  you  are  satisfied." 

"You  mean  thing!"  the  girl  pouted.  "I  don't  want 
anything  more  to  do  with  you.  Come,  Sadie,  let's 
go  for  a  walk.    We're  not  wanted  here." 

"You  must  not  go  now,  Nan,"  her  sister  ordered. 
"It  will  soon  be  tea  time,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me. 
Father  will  be  awake  soon." 

The  time  sped  all  too  quickly  for  Douglas,  and  he 
wondered  what  would  happen  before  he  should  spend 
another  such  pleasant  afternoon  with  Nell.  She  did  not 
remove  the  wreath  he  had  placed  upon  her  head  until 


246  TlfE  TXKNOAVX  WRESTLER 

that  evening  after  he  had  left  her  at  the  cottage  door. 
Then  she  placed  it  in  a  dish  of  water  to  keep  the  lilies 
fresh  as  long  as  possible  in  memory  of  that  happy 
'a^/-^^-^a^e%a^j>5Mss'^ossessed  her,  and  her  heart 
was  full  of  peace  such  as  she  had"  never  before  experi- 

Doug!a?s  Md^tM  Reeling  that  he  Was  now  nearing  a 
crisis  in  his  sojourn  at  Kixton,  and  the  next  morning'lre 
told  Jake  that  he  had  better  get  another  man  to  help 
him.  rsbui  *rr;oY 

Jake'-'cx^aim^L^1  wfa  ba«     £i  ob  nob.  I" 

"Not  just  yet,"  Douglas  informed  him.  "But  I  may 
ik&\ftfa&W>Qgive  you  full  service  for  a  -while,  }And, 
besides,  if  -this  trial  should  £o  against :--me\  -rI  may  be 
^forcea^o  ^eave^the  ^lace  after  Ilfia  If  Squire  Hawkins 
fails  to  give  justice  an4  allows  Ben  to  go  free,  what 
*6m  i^i^W^'^SmS^bPA&k^mtBbdP'il^m  see'what 
Jake  would  say. 

no^tSe^yte  Wlifi^fhat  Hen  Hawkins  migtft -riot  give  ya 
justice,  eli?    Is  that  what 's  both erin'  ye?" 

"Oh,  itrs  noi  bothering  me  :ve*y  much,  only  it  might 
shorten  my  stay  here,  that's  all.  It  will  be  no  use  for 
tafe^td  remain  in1  this  place  with  all  the  people  against 
me.    I  can  go  elsewhere." 

"The  hull' people '11  not  T>e  aginst  y<v"  and  Jaka 
brought  his  big  flst  down  upon  the 'kitchen  table' with 
ftTIbang.  "Mcbbe- they'll  have  a  few  things  to  say  if 
Hen  Hawkins  isn't  on  the  -square.  I  know  that  him 
:iki^me  SttaflflQs  eat  out  of  the  same  trough.  But  great 
•'gttfikiris!  they'll  dance  on  the  same  griddle  if  they're 
not  keerful."  ttarsJla  I 

Douglas  was  surprised  at  the  number  of  men  gath- 


PERVERTING  JUSTICE  247 

ered  at  the  hall  when  he  and  Jake  arrived  that  after- 
noon. Most  of  them  were  sitting  or  standing,  in  little; 
groups  outside,  discussing  the  one  important  question. 
of  the  day.  Just  what  they  were  saying  ho  could  not 
tell,  as  the  thne  had  come  for  the  trial  to  begin  anithe 
men  nocked  into  the  building.  *  Squire  Hawkins  was 
sitting  on  the  platform,  and  by  his  side  was  his  clerk 
with  pen  and  paper  before  'him,  ready  to  take  down 
the  evidence. 

(Jueas.thle  Squire  has  closed  his  store  this  after- 
nt>£m,"  Jake  wlijrspered  to  his  companion.  /'He's  got 
his  clerk  with  him  to  do  the  writin'.',       %«jfl 

Douglas -noticed'  that  Ben  -Stubbles  was  not  in  the 

hall,  but  he  saw  Tom/and  Pete  with  the  other  menjwho 

;  part  in  the  attaok,  sitting  in  the  front  seat. 

J  Jen  toqg  summoned?  he  wondered.     He, wanted 

;ascai  tobe  present  to  hear  all  that  would  be  said. 

The  trial  was.  the,  most  peculiar  and  interesting  one 

Douglas  had  ever  witnessed.     Squire  Hawkins  did/ not 

know  how  to  conduct  the  case,  but  what  he  lacked- in 

knowledge  he  made  up  in  words  and  a  pompous  man- 

^  feeling  his  importance  on  this  occasion, 

and  was  determined  to  make  the  n^ost^qf -at    Rising  to 

•\K't.   he    stated   the   charges   that   had   been   made 

against    Tom  Totten  and  Pete  Rollins.    Then  he  or- 

<jfct«d  stke  $J#enders  to  come  forward. 

"You  have  heard  the  charges  made  against;  you^  have 

"\\V  have,"  was  the  reply. 
"Ai  y  or  not  guilty!.,^,  9cf  h[m, ,- , 

"Guil  . 

This  candid  admission  was  a  surprise  to  the  Squire, 
as  he  had  expected  that  the  men  would  emphatically 


248  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

deny  the  charges.  He  was  not  prepared  for  this,  and 
hardly  knew  how  to  proceed.  He  frowned,  twisted  in 
his  chair,  and  felt  most  uncomfortable.  The  staring 
and  gaping  audience  greatly  embarrassed  him. 

"S-so  you  confess  your  guilt,  eh?"  he  at  length 
stammered. 

"Yes,  sir;  we  do." 

"Are  you  not  afraid  of  the  consequences?" 

"What  are  they?" 

"W-well,  I  h-have  to  see  about  that.  I'm  not  just 
sure  yet.  But  why  did  you  make  the  attack  upon  Mr. 
Handyman  ? ' ' 

"We  were  ordered  to  do  so,  sir,"  Tom  replied. 

"H'm,  I  see,"  and  the  Squire  rubbed  his  chin 
thoughtfully  with  his  right  hand.  He  was  thinking 
clearly  now,  and  realised  how  necessary  it  was  for  him 
to  be  most  discreet  with  his  questions.  "Were  there 
just  two  of  you?"  he  presently  asked. 

"No,  sir." 

"Who  were  the  others?" 

"They  can  speak  for  themselves,  sir." 

No  sooner  had  the  words  left  Tom's  mouth  than  four 
men  stepped  forward. 

"And  were  you  in  the  trouble,  too?"  the  Squire 
questioned. 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  spokesman  replied.  "We  was  with 
Tom  an'  Pete.    We're  guilty,  too." 

"Well,  I  must  say  you  are  a  fine  bunch  of  night- 
hawks,"  and  the  Squire  gave  a  slight,  sarcastic  laugh. 
"You  should  be  thoroughly  ashamed  of  yourselves." 

"We're  more'n  ashamed,  sir,"  Tom  replied;  "we're 
disgusted. ' ' 

"Disgusted  at  what?" 


PERVERTING  JUSTICE  249 

"At  makm'  sich  fools  of  ourselves,  an'  bein'  the  tools 
of  another." 

"But  you  are  responsible  men,  and  why  do  you  try 
to  shift  the  blame  to  other  shoulders  ? "  the  Squire  stern- 
ly demanded. 

"Because  we'd  been  drinkin',  sir.  We  really  didn't 
know  what  we  was  doin'  that  night.  The  whiskey  was 
given  us  an'  we  was  ready  for  any  divilment.  That's 
the  long  and  short  of  it." 

Squire  Hawkins  now  rose  slowly  to  his  feet  and  looked 
upon  the  audience  before  him. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  began,  "I  do  not  see  any  reason 
why  I  should  prolong  this  enquiry.  These  men  have 
confessed  everything,  and  there  is  nothing  more  for 
me  to  do  except  to  impose  the  penalties.  I  shall  be 
very  lenient  as  this  is  the  first  time  they  have  been 
brought  before  me.  But  I  wish  to  warn  you  all  that  if 
I  am  called  upon  to  deal  with  such  a  case  again,  I  shall 
be  very  severe." 

No  sooner  had  the  Squire  sat  down,  than  Douglas 
was  on  his  feet.  He  had  listened  with  almost  incredu- 
lous amazement  to  the  way  in  which  the  enquiry  had 
been  conducted,  and  he  knew  that  if  some  one  did  not 
interfere,  the  one  who  was  really  guilty  would  escape. 

1 '  May  I  be  allowed  to  speak  ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  providing  you  are  brief  and  to 
the  point,"  was  the  somewhat  reluctant  assent. 

"I  have  been  very  much  surprised  at  this  enquiry," 
Douglas  began,  "and  I  wish  to  call  attention  to  certain 
matters  which  have  been  passed  over  without  any  con- 
sideration at  all.  These  men  before  you,  sir,  have 
pleaded  guilty  to  the  charges  which  I  made  against 
them.    They  have  confessed  that  they  were  given  liquor 


250  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

and  ordered  to  attack  me  last  Friday  night.  But/you 
have  not  asked  them  who  the  person  is  who  ordered  the 
attack  and  gave  them  the.  whiskey.  Is:  it  not  right. that 
you  should  do  so;  sir,  that  we  may  know  who  was  really- 
at  the  bottom  of  that  cowardly  affair  ? ' ' 

"Hear,  hear,"  came  from  several  in  the  audience. 
1 1  You  are  right.  I   Let  us  know  the  person  'a  name. 

"Your  question  has  no  bearing  upon  this  case," 
Squire  Hawkins  angrily  replied.  "  These  offenders  have? 
acknowledged  their  guilt,  and  they;  alone  are  the  re- 
sponsible ones  and  must  bear  the  whole  blame." 

"But  why  did  they  attack  me?"  Douglas  asked. 
"They  had  no  ill  will  against  me;  they  were  merely 
tools  in  the  hands  of  another.  The  one  who  set  them 
on  evidently  wished  $o  do  me;  an  injury.  He  is;  the 
gnilty  one,  and* L demand  that  you  inquire  who  he  is." 

"Then  you, can  keep  on  demanding,"  was  the  surly 
respoii  se.    "  I  am  conducting  tliis  case*  and  not  #ou. 

A  murmur  of  disapproval  passed  through  the  andi-f 
ence;  and  Several  cries  of  "Shame"  were  heard.  Squire 
Hawkins  was  feeling  very  angry  and  at  the  -same  time 
uneasy.  He  was  between  two  fires.  He  was  afraid  of 
the  people,  and  yet  he  had  a  greater  fear  of- the  Stub- 
bles. As  he  hesitated,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  Tom 
Totten  cleared : his  throat  and  turned  partly  around. 

"If  vcz  want  to  know  who:  put  us  on: to  tfh at  nasty 
job,  I'll  tell  yez,"  he  began.  "It  was  Ben  Stubbles  who 
did  it.  He  gave  us  the  whiskey,  an'  ordered  us  to  way- 
lay Jake '  Jukes '  hired  man  an  'beat  him  up.  That's 
God's  truth, -an ''We  are  all  ready  to  sweur  to  it." 

During  the.  inquiry  Ben  had  entered  the  hall  and 
remained  near  I the  door.  He  lislencd  to  all  that  took 
place  with  much  ami:  He  felt  perfectly  secure 


PEfflRERTING  JUSTIOSit  .25JL 

and  trusted  to  Squire  Hawkins  to  shield  him  from  any 
blame.  He  enjoyed  Douglas',  apparent  defeat  when  his 
request  was  refused.  But  Tom's  voluntary  information 
was  entirely  unexpected.  He  .bad  never  for  an  instant 
-imagined  that  the  man  would  dare  nfralfe  such] -a- State- 
ment. His  momentary  consternation  gave  way  to  furi- 
ous anger  and  he  at  once  hurried  up  the  aisle. 
.  "  What  in  h— —  are  you  giving  us  ? ' '.  he  demanded 
from  Tom.  "What  do  you  mean  by  bringing  my  name 
into  this  affair?" 

Tom  stared  in  amazement  at  the  'irate  man  before 
him,  for  he  could  hardly  believe  bis  sensed  .  ThMn  his 
eyes  blazed  with  indignation  as  he  grasped  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  scoundrel's  words. 

•  "I've  been  givin'.  the  truth,  Ben  Stubbles,"  be  re- 
plied, "an'  ye  know  it  as  well  as  we  doi'.' 

•  "You  lie,"  and  Ben  .stamped  hard  upon  the- floor  in 
his  rage.  "You  were  beastly  drunk,  got  into  trouble, 
and  then  lay  the  blame:  on  me.  That's  a  nice  way  to 
do  things." 

:-    Douglas  could  hardly  control  himself  at  these-  brazen 

-words.  Jake,  sitting  by  his  side,  was  writing  and 
muttering  many  "Great  punkins!"  under  his  breath. 
In  fact,  the  entire  assembly  was  becoming- re&tiess  an*  I 
ready  for;  almost  anything.  But  Tom  remained 're- 
markably calm.  He  took  a  step  forward  and  facedithe 
Squire.  •  ;;ot  oJ  ^aib'iooofi 

Ye  hear  what  Ben  says,  sir,"  he  began],  "an'  ye 'ye 

-lieard  what  we've  said.     It's  six  to  one,  an'  we're  1 
to  swear  any  time  on  the  Good  Book  that  what  we've 

-'told  WiiicH  i\\v  believe;  him  or  us'.'" 

*•  Squire  now  was  in  ;i   wots-   <ix   tmm  ever.     He 

,a*npi  perspiring  forehead  with  a  big  handker- 


252  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

chief  and  looked  helplessly  around.  He  longed  for  the 
platform  to  open  and  swallow  him  up.  But  no  such 
miraculous  relief  was  granted.  The  issue  was  before 
him,  and  he  knew  he  had  to  face  it. 

"I — I  think  I  shall  reserve  judgment,"  he  stam- 
mered, ''until  I  have  given  this  matter  due  considera- 
tion/ ' 

"But  we  want  ye  to  decide  now,  sir,"  Tom  insisted. 
"We  want  to  know  what  ye 're  goin'  to  do  before  we 
leave  the  hall.  It's  six  to  one,  an'  any  kid  could  figger 
that  out,  without  waitin'." 

"Hear,  hear,"  came  from  several  in  the  room. 

"But  I  must  have  time  to  think  it  out  carefully," 
the  Squire  replied.  "You  were  drunk  when  you  made 
the  attack,  and  it  was  easy  then  for  you  to  imagine 
almost  anything." 

"But  we  weren't  drunk,  sir,  when  Ben  met  us  that 
night,  an'  gave  us  the  whiskey,  an'  told  us  what  to  do, 
was  we?"  and  he  turned  to  his  companions. 

"No,  no,"  came  as  one  from  the  lined -up  men. 

As  Squire  Hawkins'  eyes  wandered  first  from  the  six 
men  to  Ben  and  then  back  again  in  an  uncertain  man- 
ner, an  idea  suddenly  flashed  into  his  mind.  He  grasped 
it  in  an  instant. 

"Look  here,"  he  demanded.  "I  am  not  dealing  with 
Mr.  Benjamin  Stubbles  now,  but  with  you  six  men  who, 
according  to  your  own  confession,  made  the  attack.  If 
necessary,  I  can  take  up  his  case  later.  You  are  the 
men  I  have  been  called  upon  to  try,  and  not  Mr.  Stub- 
bles. I,  therefore,  declare  you  guilty  of  waylaying  one, 
John  Handyman  by  name,  with  the  intention  of  af- 
flicting bodily  injury,  and  also  of  breaking  into  Pro- 
fessor Strong's  house.    These  are  very  serious  offences, 


PERVERTING  JUSTICE  253 

but  as  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  been  before  me  I 
shall  make  the  penalty  very  light,  and  impose  the  fine 
of  only  ten  dollars  upon  each  of  you.  That  is  my  de- 
cision, and  I  hope  you  are  satisfied.' ' 

Douglas  was  upon  his  feet  in  an  instant. 

"You  are  perverting  justice,"  he  cried.  "You  know 
who  is  the  guilty  man  and  you  are  letting  him  go  free. 
I  demand  that  you  give  a  different  judgment,  or  at 
least  be  man  enough  to  acknowledge  that  you  are  afraid 
to  give  any  decision  against  Ben  Stubbles." 

"Hear,  hear,"  came  from  all  parts  of  the  room,  and 
in  the  excitement  that  followed,  Squire  Hawkins  de- 
clared the  trial  ended  and  left  the  building  with  Ben 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

Douglas  was  thoroughly  disgusted  at  the  farce  he  had 
just  witnessed.  He  was  somewhat  disheartened  as  well. 
What  hope  had  he  of  accomplishing  anything  when  the 
man  appointed  to  administer  British  justice  exhib- 
ited such  a  spirit  of  partiality  and  cringing  cowardice? 
The  men  around  him  were  greatly  excited,  though  he 
felt  that  nothing  could  be  expected  from  them.  They 
might  storm  and  rage  at  the  injustice,  but  they  would 
bow  their  necks  as  in  the  past  to  the  Stubbles'  yoke  and 
endure  every  indignity. 

Leaving  the  hall  and  the  babel  of  voices,  he  hurried 
up  the  road.  The  unpolluted  air  was  refreshing  and 
he  became  calmer.  Presently  an  idea  flashed  into  his 
mind,  which  brought  a  flush  to  his  cheeks  and  caused  his 
eyes  to  kindle  with  a  new  hope.  "Strange  I  didn't 
think  of  it  before,"  he  mused.  "But  perhaps  it  is  not 
too  late  yet.     I  shall  try  it,  anyway." 


I   01. 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

.991$   0£  0N  THE   rocKS 

C'ftARLES  GARTON  was  seated  in  his  cosy  study ' 
smoking-  his  after-dinner  cigar.  It  was  unusual 
for  him  to' be  alone  at  this  hour  of  the  evening,  as -his 
wife  and  children  were  generally  with  him.  But  he  had 
been  late  coming  from  the  office  and  by  the  time  he  had  ' 
finished  his  dinner  the  children  were  put  to'bed,  as  this 
was  the  maid's  evening  out.  Mrs.  Garton  was  attend- 
ing a  church  "affair"  and  would  net  be  home  until  ten, 
so  she  had  phoned. 

Garton  was  glad  to  be  alone  as  it  afforded  him  a  quiet 
time  ;for  thought.  As  a  rule  he  tried  to  leave  his  h 
ness  concerns  behind  him  when  he  left  the  offiee.  Hut 
to-night  it  was  different,  and  his  eyes  often  turned  to- 
ward two  Tetters  lying  open  on  the  little  stand' 'by  his; 
side.  At  length,  picking  up  one  of  them,  he  read  it! 
again,  and, as  he  did  so  his  face  brightened  and  he  gave 
a  deep  sigh  of  relief.  But  as  lie  scanned  the  other  his 
brow  knitted  in  perplexity  and,  leaning  back,  he  blew" 
great  wreaths  of  smoke  into  the  air. 

" Strange,"  he  mused,  "how  that  mine  has  recov- 
ered. I  had  given  up  all  hope  of  getting  anything  from 
it,  and  now  it  is/booming.  My,  won  't  7\  it  be  surprised  T 
I  would  feel  happy  to-night  but  for  this  other  letter. 
I  wonder  what  I  had  better  do  about  it.  Things  are 
certainly  in  a  bad  shape  there.    He's  on  the  rocks  sure 

254 


A3.."      ON  THE  ROCKS  255 

enough,  and  trill  go  to  piBces.il  we  don't  come  to  his 
assistance,  -so  he  says.'"  :s  .jtolir 

'Garten's  reverie  w^s  broken  I  b#nthe  clear  insistent 
ring  of  the  door-bell.  ii  is-gh  Bid  'to  bus  ed$  fi 

'Confound  it!"  hfr  m6t$R<$,  nW.b?  rm  &m '  *he 
chair,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room.  " Can't  I  juiy^a 
little ; peace  -for  ,<^ne  night,  at  l^ast?,'/  ej[noo  ^ixasif  tP* 

But  nq;gofiB#r  J*g  he,  ,f  hrowar  open  &e  ^o^t^an  his 
tone  of  anger  gave  way  'bo.one  of  joy,, when  he  beheld 
Douglas  Staitfon:,^andin£,  before  him. 

"Wuil.  >m  my  word!"  he  cried,  ^ei/inj^fcfs  visitor 
by  the  arm  anot  dragging  him  unceremoniously  into  the 
study.     "Where  .ff^fe^tt^fl^Sj^f3^^  from? 


tJJJnwaslied,"  Douglas  laughing!  inSecf,  asfce 

..-  himself  into  an  easy  chair.    *  Any  more  remarks 

'  1  Am  airaid  your  ma^n^rs^n^&^m- 

™  ™~+  "         .910190   197911  26   VfOil  fl   HlflT/   I      .OliJ    I 


prove 

last  we  met 


I    would  give  almost  anvthing  to   be   as  strong  and 
on   are.-  ^08X3   1- 


"  1 .  haWfor  iMYkir few  ^W&Ai'fcfoV -wife 

won't  know  you."  Douglas  replied,  as  tie^l^axlh&d  out 


hrtpM°\krfovl?  to   a  figftf  ■■^Bfcflilsfoiate'Mrs. 

rhf  ki«K-.'     Y  be  keeper  baehfe- 

in<_r  wrflng'?  ^Married!  life;*  failure •?" 

m!I.     Thi*  family  ar<>  fine;  children   in 

B  <Imreh  '-tear  flghfchr,  Rut,  we  can  talk 

-iftftftrt  them  when  they  show  up.    I  wantl  to  know  now 


256  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

about  yourself,  and  how  you  have  been  making  out. 
It's  a  comfort,  anyway,  to  know  that  you  are  alive. " 

"That's  about  all,  I  guess,"  Douglas  replied,  as  he 
flicked  off  the  end  of  his  cigar  into  the  ash-tray. 

"Have  they  driven  you  out?"  Garton  eagerly  ques- 
tioned. 

"It  hasn't  come  to  that  yet,  though  attempts  have 
been  made  to  do  so.  But  I  fear  they  will  succeed  un- 
less you  come  to  my  rescue." 

"Why,  what  can  I  do?"  and  Garton  looked  his  sur- 
prise. "Surely  you  are  not  going  to  get  me  into  any 
trouble  up  there!" 

"Lawyers  generally  like  trouble,  don't  they?  More 
trouble,  more  money,  is  their  motto,  so  I  understand." 

"Yes,  as  a  rule.  But,  you  see,  this  has  to  do  with 
Church  matters,  and  I  like  to  keep  out  of  them." 

"Too  little  money  in  the  parsons'  pockets,  eh?  Well, 
I  don't  blame  you.  But  I  want  your  advice.  You  told 
me  to  come  to  you  whenever  I  needed  help,  and  here 
I  am.    I  want  it  now  as  never  before." 

"And  you  shall  have  it.  Give  me  your  story,  and 
then  I  shall  see  what  can  be  done.  I  hope  to  goodness 
you  haven't  killed  anybody." 

"Not  exactly  killed  with  my  hands,  though  perhaps 
I  have  with  my  heart,  which  is  just  as  bad,  according 
to  Scripture." 

As  briefly  and  as  concisely  as  possible  Douglas  related 
his  experiences  at  Rixton.  He  told  about  his  work 
on  the  farm,  his  conflict  with  the  Stubbles,  the  sorrow 
of  the  shoemaker  and  his  wife  over  their  daughter,  of 
Mrs.  Dempster  and  Empty,  and  the  professor  and  his 
daughters.    He  was  as  cautious  as  possible  when  speak- 


ON  THE  ROCKS  257 

ing  about  Nell,  and  from  his  words  the  lawyer  received 
not  the  slightest  idea  of  his  love  for  her. 

Douglas  told  his  story  well,  and  before  he  was 
through  Garton  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  study.  He 
was  unusually  excited  and  at  times  he  found  it  difficult 
to  restrain  his  feelings. 

"Good  heavens,  man!"  he  exclaimed  when  Douglas 
had  finished,  "you've  been  having  a  wild  west  show 
up  there.  You  might  have  called  upon  your  neighbours 
to  see  the  fun." 

"I  am  calling  upon  one  now  to  see  the  finish,"  was 
the  laconic  reply.  "If  he  doesn't  take  a  hand  in  the 
matter  at  once  there'll  soon  be  a  finish  to  the  chief 
actor.  You  can't  do  anything  when  British  justice  is 
perverted  through  cowardice  and  partiality.  Simon 
.Stubbles  rules  the  parish,  and  will  continue  to  rule  it  in 
his  own  way  unless  he  is  checked." 

"And  checked  he  shall  be,"  Garton  emphatically  re- 
plied, bringing  his  fist  down  hard  upon  the  study  table. 
"I  am  glad  you  have  come  to  see  me  to-night,  for  your 
story  has  solved  a  problem  which  has  been  perplexing 
me  all  day.  Simon  Stubbles  is  on  the  rocks  and  has 
appealed  to  me  for  help." 

"On  the  rocks!"  Douglas  vaguely  repeated. 

"Yes,  on  the  rocks.  He  is  financially  embarrassed, 
and  has  signalled  to  me  for  assistance." 

1  \  That 's  news  to  me.    I  thought  he  was  very  wealthy. ' ' 

"And  so  did  every  one.  But  here  is  his  letter,"  and 
the  lawyer  picked  it  up  from  the  stand.  "I  received 
it  this  morning,  and  in  it  he  tells  me  that  unless  he  has 
ten  thousand  dollars  immediately  he  will  go  under.  He 
wishes  to  mortgage  the  whole  of  his  property,  mill, 
house  and  timber  lands." 


258  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"This  is  certainly  remarkable  news  to  me,"  Douglas 
replied.  "lam  sure  that  the  people  of  Rixton  have  no 
knowledge  of  this.  They  consider  him  very  wealthy, 
and  not  without  reason  for  he  does  a  big  business.  Have 
you  any  idea  as  to  the  cause  of  his  embarrassment?  He 
seems  to  live  very  quietly,  and  attends  strictly  to  busi- 
ness." 

"The  letter  does  not  say  what  it  is.  But  since  hear- 
ing your  story  I  have  formed  nry  own  conclusion." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"It  is  his  son.  From  what  you  have  told  me,  that 
young  man  has  been  leading  a  very  fast  life.  He  does 
not  work  at  all,  and  therefore  his  father  must  have  been 
providing  the  money  for  his  headlong  career.  I  do  not 
think  I  am  far  astray  as  cases  similar  to  this  have  come 
to  my  notice.  There  are  too  many  such  young  men 
abroad  to-day,  doing  nothing  for  themselves,  a  menace 
to  society,  and  wretched  parasites  upon  their  fathers.  I 
always  get  furious  whenever  I  think  of  them.  That 
must  be  the  trouble  with  Stubbles  senior." 

"Do  you  intend  to  help  him?"  Douglas  asked  as 
calmly  as  possible.  He  would  have  been  more  than 
human  had  he  not  thrilled  at  the  news  he  had  just 
heard.  Here  was  a  chance,  perhaps,  to  get  even  for  his 
harsh  treatment  at  Simon  Stubbles'  hands. 

"That  is  the  trouble  which  has  been  perplexing  me 
all  day,"  Garton  replied.  "Before  you  came  I  had 
about  made  up  my  mind  to  do  so.  I  did  not  know  any- 
thing about  that  reckless  son  of  his  then.  Neither  had 
I  any  idea  that  he  is  such  a  tyrant  at  Rixton,  nor  how 
he  has  treated  the  clergymen  who  have  been  there.  I 
thought  he  was  an  active  and  an  earnest  Church  worker, 


ON  THE  ROCKS  259 

and  that  was  one  of  the  reasons  in  his  favour.  But 
now  I  see  things  in  a  different  light.' ' 

1  'But  his  reign  will  soon  be  over,  though,  if  you  do 
not  help  him,"  Douglas  replied.  "I  had  no  idea  that 
assistance  would  come  to  me  in  such  an  unexpected 
manner.  But,  say,"  and  he  leaned  suddenly  forward, 
"now  I  understand  something.  Strange  that  it  never 
occurred  to  me  before." 

"What  is  it?" 

Douglas  then  told  about  the  mortgage  on  Professor 
Strong's  place,  and  how  Stubbles  was  about  to  fore- 
close as  he  needed  money.  He  said  nothing,  however, 
about  Ben's  part  in  the  affair  with  Nell.  He  could 
not  trust  himself  to  mention  this. 

"Who  is  this  Strong?"  Garton  asked.  "The  name 
sounds  familiar.  There  was  a  professor  by  that  name 
at  Passdale." 

"He  is  the  same  man,  but  he  is  blind  now,  and  help- 
less, depending  upon  his  daughter  for  support.  He 
lost  what  money  he  had  saved,  so  I  understand." 

"You  don't  tell  me  that  Professor  Strong  is  living 
in  Rixton!"  Garton  exclaimed  in  astonishment.  "Why, 
he  was  considered  a  very  able  man  when  he  was  at 
Passdale.  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  him.  But 
how  did  he  come  to  lose  his  money?" 

"He  invested  it,  like  so  many  other  simpletons,  in 
that  Big  Chief  mining  concern.  I  did  the  same,  and 
80  lost  what  little  I  had." 

"No,  you  haven't,"  and  Garton  picked  up  one  of  the 
letters  by  his  side.  ' '  I  have  good  news  for  you  and  the 
professor.  The  Big  Chief  has  revived  and  is  going 
stronger  than  ever.    TTiis  is  a  letter  I  received  to-day 


260  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

telling  me  about  it.  I  invested  largely  in  that  concern, 
and  so  am  greatly  interested. ' ' 

Douglas  made  no  reply  to  this  most  gratifying  infor- 
mation. His  mind  had  gone  back  to  Rixton  and  the 
little  cottage  by  the  river-side.  He  pictured  to  him- 
self the  expression  upon  Nell's  face  and  the  look  of  joy 
in  her  eyes  when  she  heard  the  good  news.  How  he 
longed  to  start  right  off  and  tell  her.  What  a  relief 
it  would  be  to  her  to  know  that  the  little  place  would  be 
saved  from  Simon  Stubbles'  grasp,  and  that  all  the 
gnawing  financial  cares  would  be  ended.  It  seemed  al- 
most too  good  to  be  true. 

"How  much  did  the  professor  invest?"  Garton  at 
length  enquired. 

"  I  do  not  know.  But  it  must  have  been  quite  a  sum. 
Anyway,  it  was  his  all,  and  the  failure  meant  so  much 
to  him  and  his  daughters." 

"He  can  sell  now  at  a  good  profit,  as  the  stock  is 
higher  than  ever  it  was  before.  You  can  tell  him  to 
come  to  me  if  he  wishes  to  dispose  of  his  interest." 

"I  can  hardly  believe  that  what  you  have  told  me 
is  true,"  Douglas  replied,  "as  it  will  mean  so  much 
for  the  Strongs.  Simon  Stubbles  won 't  be  able  to  worry 
them  any  longer." 

"Indeed  he  won't.  He's  got  his  own  troubles  to  at- 
tend to,  and  they  will  be  much  heavier  than  they  are 
now,  if  he  isn't  careful." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do?     Help  him  out?" 

"That  all  depends  upon  you,  Stanton." 

"Upon  me!    Why,  what  can  I  do?" 

"Say  the  word,  and  I  will  refuse  to  assist  him.  He 
can  go  under,  and  the  parish  will  be  rid  of  him.  Isn't 
that  what  you  want?" 


ON  THE  ROCKS  261 

For  a  while  Douglas  was  silent.  It  would  be  a  choice 
revenge  to  see  the  blustering  and  impudent  bully 
crashed  by  a  single  word.  He  thought  of  Ben  and  the 
haughty  and  sarcastic  sisters.  How  delightful  it  would 
be  to  see  them  wince  under  the  blow  of  financial  fail- 
ure. This  temptation  was  only  of  short  duration,  how- 
ever, for  it  was  succeeded  by  a  nobler  feeling.  He  must 
not  allow  the  spirit  of  revenge  to  affect  him  in  the  least. 
All  that  he  wanted  was  justice,  and  freedom  for  Church 
work  in  Rixton.  The  Stubbles  were  in  the  way,  and  if 
pressure  could  now  be  brought  to  bear,  either  to  bring 
them  to  their  senses  or  to  force  them  out  of  the  parish, 
then  it  was  right  to  do  so. 

"Is  it  hard  to  decide ?"  the  lawyer  asked,  noting 
his  hesitation  and  preoccupied  air. 

"Yes,  it  is.  I  wish  to  do  what  is  fair.  The  tempter's 
advice  is  to  get  even  now  for  the  injury  that  has  been 
done.  But  a  nobler  voice  bids  me  to  rise  above  such  a 
feeling  and  do  nothing  in  the  spirit  of  revenge,  but 
merely  for  the  welfare  of  Rixton. " 

"But  should  not  the  Stubbles  be  taught  a  severe  les- 
son? Is  it  right  that  they  should  escape  all  punish- 
ment ?" 

1 '  I  suppose  not,  but  punishment  should  not  be  carried 
out  in  the  spirit  of  revenge.  When  the  State  punishes 
a  man,  say  with  imprisonment,  for  some  crime,  it  is 
not  done  in  the  spirit  of  revenge,  but  in  order  to  safe- 
guard society  in  general,  as  well  as  to  teach  a  severe 
lesson.  The  same  applies  to  parental  authority  over 
children.  Now,  I  want  to  do  something  similar  to  that 
in  this  affair.  I  wish  to  do  it  without  any  vindictive- 
ness  on  my  part." 

"You  are  quite  right,  Stanton,' '  the  lawyer  replied. 


262  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"I  see  your  point,  and  I  admire  you  for  it.  But  we 
must  do  something. ' ' 

''Certainly.  But  let  us  do  nothing  hastily.  Let  me 
think  this  over  to-night,  and  we  can  discuss  it  again 
in  the  morning.  You  have  told  me  so  much  that  I  am 
anxious  to  consider  every  point  very  carefully.  Will 
that  do?" 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  ar- 
rival of  Mrs.  Garton.  She  was  delighted  to  see  Doug- 
las, and  at  once  began  to  question  him  about  his  ad- 
ventures at  Rixton. 

"Let  us  have  a  cup  of  cocoa  first,  Kit,"  her  husband 
suggested.  "And  a  piece  of  your  nice  cake,  too,"  he 
added. 

"Starving  as  usual,"  Mrs.  Garton  smilingly  replied. 
"Didn't  you  have  your  dinner?" 

"Why,  yes,  but  it's  nearly  eleven  now,  and  you  prom- 
ised to  be  home  at  ten." 

When  the  cocoa  had  been  made  and  brought  into  the 
study,  Mrs.  Garton  looked  quizzically  at  Douglas. 

"If  I  met  you  on  the  street  I  would  not  recognise 
you,"  she  remarked. 

"So  that's  the  way  you  treat  your  friends,  is  it?" 
her  husband  bantered. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  that,  Charles,"  she  protested. 
"But  I  never  saw  Mr.  Stanton  dressed  that  way  be- 
fore." 

"No  wonder  you  wouldn't  recognise  me,"  Douglas 
smilingly  replied.  "It  is  a  splendid  disguise  at  times. 
Even  Dr.  Rannage  didn't  know  me  when  he  came  to 
Rixton." 

"What,  were  you  at  that  meeting?"  Garton  asked. 

"So  you  heard  of  it,  then?" 


ON  THE  ROCKS  263 

1 '  Sure.  Why,  Dr.  Rannage  was  furious  when  he  came 
home,  and  at  a  recent  session  of  the  Board  of  Missions 
he  expressed  his  opinion  in  no  uncertain  manner,  so  I 
understand. ' ' 

"And  he  is  not  over  it  yet,"  Mrs.  Garton  remarked. 
"I  was  talking  to  him  for  a  while  to-night,  and  he  told 
me  about  his  terrible  experience  up  there.  He  said 
that  it  was  not  a  fit  place  to  send  any  man,  and  that 
the  people  were  most  ignorant  and  uncouth. " 

"They  were  too  much  for  Dr.  Rannage,  though/' 
Douglas  replied.  He  then  told  them  in  detail  about 
the  meeting  that  night  at  the  Corner.  "Dr.  Rannage 
made  a  fool  of  himself,"  he  said  in  conclusion.  "He 
was  not  the  proper  person  to  send  there." 

"Won't  you  tell  me  something  about  Rixton?"  Mrs. 
Garton  asked,  "and  what  you  have  been  doing  since 
you  left  the  city?" 

"Tell  her  about  your  wrestling  bout  with  Jake 
Jukes,"  Garton  suggested,  "and  the  widow  and  her 
news-bag  of  a  son,  and  also  about  the  old  shoemaker  and 
his  wayward  daughter.  Yes,  and  about  the  old  profes- 
sor and  his  daughters." 

"You  have  given  me  a  big  contract,"  Douglas  laugh- 
ingly replied. 

"I  know  I  have,  but  Kit  must  hear  it." 

It  was  late  when  the  three  at  last  rose  to  retire.  But 
Douglas  did  not  mind,  for  he  was  glad  to  have  such 
interested  listeners.  But  the  part  of  his  story  that 
was  nearest  his  heart  he  did  not  tell.  Not  even  to  the 
Gartons  would  he  reveal  his  love  for  Nell,  and  all  that 
she  meant  to  him. 

Douglas  walked  with  Garton  down  the  street  the 
next  morning  toward  the  lawyer's  office. 


264  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Well,  what  is  your  decision  as  to  the  Stubbles'  af- 
fair?'' the  latter  asked.  "I  suppose  you  have  it  all 
cut  and  dried." 

"Not  altogether,"  was  the  reply.  "I  spent  much 
of  the  night  thinking  it  over,  but  am  not  fully  decided 
yet.    But  there  is  one  thing  I  would  like  you  to  do. ' ' 

"What  is  that?" 

"Come  to  Rixton  and  let  us  both  meet  Stubbles  and 
have  it  out  with  him.    What  do  you  think  of  the  idea  ? ' ' 

"It  is  a  good  one,  and  it  has  been  in  my  mind  ever 
since  you  told  me  your  story  last  night." 

"When  can  you  come?  To-day?  I  am  going  back 
this  afternoon." 

"I  cannot  go  until  to-morrow.  I  shall  go  in  my  auto 
in  the  morning  and  not  bother  with  the  train." 

"Come  right  to  Jake  Jukes'  house  and  I  shall  get 
Mrs.  Jukes  to  have  dinner  ready.  I  know  it  will  be 
a  good  one,  so  bring  your  appetite  with  you.  Don't 
be  too  late." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  on  time.  When  we  get  through  with 
Stubbles,  I  want  to  have  a  few  words  with  Squire  Haw- 
kins.   We  mustn't  let  him  off  too  easily." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  WILL  OP  THE  PEOPLE 

IT  had  taken  the  people  of  Rixton  a  long  time  to  op- 
pose the  overbearing  tyranny  of  Simon  Stubbles  and 
his  family.  It  really  began  that  afternoon  at  the  close 
of  the  so-called  trial.  The  men  were  incensed  as  never 
before,  and  talked  and  threatened  in  an  alarming  man- 
ner. Even  then,  nothing  of  a  definite  nature  might 
have  been  done  but  for  the  leadership  of  Jake  Jukes. 
He  was  slow  to  arouse  to  a  pitch  of  fury,  but  when  once 
stirred  he  was  a  formidable  opponent,  and  this  all  knew. 
His  affection  for  Douglas  was  something  remarkable, 
and  his  wife  had  at  times  bantered  him  about  thinking 
more  of  his  hired  help  than  he  did  of  her.  Douglas' 
courage  in  facing  the  Stubbles,  combined  with  his  abil- 
ity as  a  wrestler,  was  what  appealed  to  Jake,  and  when 
he  saw  what  a  miserable  farce  Squire  Hawkins  was 
making  of  the  trial,  and  listened  to  Ben  Stubbles'  blas- 
phemous denial  of  all  connection  with  the  night  at- 
tack, his  anger  rose  to  white  heat. 

For  a  while  he  remained  silent  at  the  close  of  the 
trial,  and  merely  listened  to  what  the  men  were  saying. 
He  heard  all  kinds  of  suggestions  and  wild  talk.  Some 
advocated  burning  out  the  Stubbles,  mill  and  house, 
and  driving  them  from  the  parish.  Others  were  for 
horse-whipping  Ben  and  Squire  Hawkins,  while  one 
went  so  far  as  to  suggest  that  they  hang  Ben  to  the 

265 


266  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

limb  of  a  tree.  Jake  knew  that  all  this  talk  would 
amount  to  nothing  without  a  leader,  and  if  no  one  else 
would  act,  he  would.  Quickly  mounting  a  bench,  he 
ordered  the  men  to  be  silent. 

"Ye'r  all  talkin'  like  a  bunch  of  kids,"  he  chided. 
4 'Let's  git  down  to  business,  an'  do  something.  I  don't 
want  this  to  end  in  nuthin '  but  talk  as  in  the  past.  It 's 
now  or  never.  I'm  willin'  to  lead  an'  take  the  hull 
blame,  if  yez  don't  funk  on  me  at  the  last  minute." 

' '  Good  f er  you,  Jake, ' '  several  shouted.  * l  We  '11  stand 
by  ye,  never  fear." 

"All  right,  then,"  Jake  replied,  "111  bank  on  yez 
all.  But  yez  better  go  home  now  an '  think  this  all  over, 
an'  what  is  more  important,  keep  ye'r  tongues  still  an' 
don't  blab  this  all  over  the  place.  When  I  want  yez, 
I'll  send  fer  yez,  an'  not  before." 

The  Stubbles  family  were  at  their  late  breakfast  the 
next  morning  when  news  reached  them  about  the  in- 
dignation meeting  in  the  hall  the  previous  evening. 
It  was  Squire  Hawkins  who  told  them.  He  had  re- 
ceived the  information  from  an  early  caller  at  the  store. 
All  the  Stubbles  considered  the  affair  a  huge  joke  ex- 
cepting Miss  Mehetibel.  She  was  angry  and  expressed 
her  views  in  a  most  caustic  manner. 

"It's  that  horrid  fiddler,"  she  declared,  "who  is  at 
the  bottom  of  all  this.  Pa,  I  don 't  understand  why  you 
allow  him  to  remain  in  the  parish." 

"Oh,  he'll  be  out  of  the  place  soon,"  Stubbles  senior 
replied.  "You'll  attend  to  him,  Squire,  won't  you?" 
and  he  winked  at  Hawkins  across  the  room. 

The  storekeeper  grinned  in  reply.  He  was  greatly 
pleased  at  the  way  he  had  managed  affairs  at  the  trial, 


THE  WILL  OF  THE  PEOPLE  267 

and  had  no  fear  of  the  people  so  long  as  he  had  the 
Stubbles  with  him. 

"They're  all  beasts  and  should  be  soundly  whipped, " 
Miss  Mehetibel  proclaimed.  "Oh,  if  I  were  only  a 
man!" 

"Cut  your  hair  and  change  your  clothes,  Hettie," 
her  brother  sarcastically  replied,  "and  you'll  pass  for 
a  man  any  time." 

"I'd  be  ashamed  to  be  like  you,  Ben,"  was  the  re- 
tort. "You  haven't  enough  spunk  to  be  in  the  cata- 
logue of  men." 

"Maybe  not,  but  I  get  there  just  the  same.  What 
about  last  night?" 

"Oh,  that's  not  ended  yet.  That  indignation  meet- 
ing may  amount  to  something  after  all." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  It'll  all  end  in  talk.  Why,  the  peo- 
ple in  this  parish  haven't  the  spunk  of  chickens  when 
a  hawk  is  after  them.  Dad's  the  hawk  in  this  case, 
and  they're  frightened  to  death  of  him.  Come,  girls, 
let's  go  for  a  spin." 

If  Ben  Stubbles  had  only  known  what  was  really 
taking  place  in  Rixton  he  would  not  have  spoken  so 
contemptuously  about  the  people  of  the  parish.  The 
intense  feeling  which  pervaded  the  community  that  day 
was  ominous.  Neighbours  neglected  their  work  as  never 
before,  and  met  in  twos  and  threes  near  their  line  fences 
to  discuss  the  one  big  question  of  the  day.  That  they 
were  determined  to  stand  by  Jake  was  most  evident, 
and  they  impatiently  waited  for  word  that  would  stir 
them  to  action. 

Their  anger  was  further  roused  when  they  learned 
of  what  Ben  had  done  to  Jean  Benton  at  Long  Wharf. 
This  was  due  to  Empty,  and  the  startling  news  spread 


268  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

from  house  to  house  with  mysterious  rapidity.  No  one 
doubted  it  for  an  instant,  for  Empty  himself  had  heard 
it  from  Jean's  own  lips,  and  that  settled  it  so  far  as 
the  people  were  concerned.  It  was  this  which  removed 
the  last  particle  of  hesitation  in  the  mind  of  any  one 
as  to  the  necessity  of  action.  When  at  last  word  came 
from  Jake  to  be  ready  that  night,  the  men  were  as 
one  in  their  grim  determination  to  take  matters  into 
their  own  hands. 

The  wharf  near  the  store  was  the  stated  place  of 
meeting,  and  there,  just  after  sundown,  the  men  of 
Rixton  gathered.  They  came  in  little  groups  without 
any  noise  or  clamour.  Squire  Hawkins,  at  first,  had  no 
idea  of  their  intentions,  but  thought  that  they  had  come 
merely  to  meet  the  evening  steamer.  But  as  the  crowd 
increased,  he  became  somewhat  uneasy  as  reports  of  im- 
pending trouble  drifted  to  his  ears.  In  his  anxiety,  he 
sent  word  to  Simon  Stubbles,  telling  him  of  his  fears 
and  advising  him  to  come  and  disperse  the  men. 

It  was  Ben  who  received  the  message  just  as  he  was 
about  to  head  his  car  through  the  gate  of  the  driveway 
leading  up  to  the  house.  With  a  curse  he  swung  his 
car  to  the  right  and  started  up  the  road  toward  the 
wharf.  He  would  attend  to  the  crowd,  and  send  the 
men  about  their  business.  His  father  could  make  an 
example  of  the  ringleaders  later.  But  for  once  in  his 
life  Ben  Stubbles  had  reckoned  without  his  cost.  As 
he  drew  up  near  where  the  men  were  gathered,  he  or- 
dered them  to  clear  out  and  go  home. 

"I  know  your  plans/'  he  told  them,  "but  what  do 
you  think  you  can  do?  Don't  you  know  what  will  hap- 
pen to   you?     Have  you   all  gone   crazy,  you  d 

fools?" 


THE  WILL  OF  THE  PEOPLE  269 

The  only  reply  to  these  words  was  a  roar  of  anger 
as  the  crowd  surged  toward  the  car.  Ben,  seeing  them 
coming,  and  realising  for  the  first  time  the  seriousness 
of  the  situation,  endeavoured  to  escape.  But  he  was 
too  late,  for  in  an  instant  he  was  lifted  off  his  feet  and 
placed  astride  a  pole  which  was  carried  upon  the  shoul- 
ders of  two  strong  men.  Cursing  and  raving,  Ben 
threw  himself  to  the  ground  but  was  immediately  hus- 
tled back  again  by  a  score  of  rough  hands. 

"Set  still,  ye  beast,  an'  stop  ye'r  wrigglin',"  Jake  or- 
dered. "Ye'r  only  gettin'  what's  comin'  to  ye.  Ye '11 
git  a  darn  sight  more  if  ye  don't  keep  quiet." 

Away  from  the  wharf  and  the  main  highway  Ben 
was  borne,  and  across  an  open  meadow  to  a  deep  slimy 
frog-pond  on  the  edge  of  a  large  swamp.  Here  he  was 
dumped  unceremoniously  upon  the  ground,  and  ordered 
to  remove  his  clothes.  When  he  hesitated  and  looked 
helplessly  about  as  if  seeking  for  some  avenue  of  es- 
cape, rough  hands  seized  him  and  in  a  few  minutes  he 
was  standing  as  naked  as  the  moment  he  was  born. 
Ben's  face  was  now  pale  and  he  was  trembling  in  every 
limb.  His  cursing  and  raving  had  ceased  and  the  cow- 
ardly heart  of  the  man  showed  itself.  He  pleaded  for 
mercy,  and  begged  his  captors  to  let  him  go. 

till  we're  through  with  ye,"  Jake  told  him. 
"Ye've  had  ye'r  own  way  in  this  place  long  enough, 
an'  it's  our  turn  now." 

II  teach  ye  a  thing  or  two,  ye  bloody  liar,"  Tom 
Totten  roared.    "Ye'r  heart's  as  black  as  ink,  an'  ye'r 
'11  be  jist  as  black  in  a  few  minutes.    Bring  on  the 
stuff,  boys." 

At  once  a  pail  of  coal-tar  was  produced,  and  seizing 
the  brush  which  was  handed  him,  Tom  dipped  it  into 


270  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

the  tar.  At  the  first  daub  upon  his  naked  body,  Ben 
emitted  a  yell  of  despair  and  made  a  frantic  effort  to 
escape.  But  he  was  instantly  seized  and  laid  on  the 
ground. 

"Ye'd  better  keep  quiet,  me  hearty,"  Tom  warned, 
as  he  rapidly  smeared  Ben's  body  from  head  to  foot. 
"If  ye'r  not  careful  I'll  do  ye'r  face  an'  head  at  the 
same  time." 

While  this  was  taking  place,  several  of  the  men  were 
ripping  open  an  old  feather  bed  they  had  brought  with 
them.  Into  this  Ben  was  plunged,  and  rolled  over  and 
over  until  he  looked  more  like  an  unsightly  feathered 
creature  than  a  human  being.  He  was  then  made  to 
stand  on  his  feet  for  general  inspection.  The  men  shout- 
ed with  laughter  at  the  ludicrous  spectacle  he  presented, 
and  all  kinds  of  uncomplimentary  remarks  were  made. 

"Who's  your  tailor?"   asked   one. 

"Is  that  the  latest  fashion?"  questioned  another. 

Presently  Jake  raised  his  hand,  and  the  babel  of 
tongues  ceased. 

"Now,  look  here,  Ben,"  he  began,  "this  is  a  nasty 
job,  I  know.  But  it  was  comin'  to  ye,  an'  it  had  to  be 
done  sooner  or  later.  Ye  were  altogether  too  fresh  an* 
there  was  no  livin'  in  the  parish  with  ye.  This  is  jist 
a  warnin'  to  you  an'  all  connected  with  ye,  that  the 
men  of  Rixton  won't  stand  no  more  tom-foolery.  We're 
going  to  take  things  in  our  own  hands  after  this,  an' 
we're  not  goin'  to  allow  you  nor  ye'r  father  nor  any- 
body else  to  treat  us  like  a  bunch  of  damn  curs.  Isn't 
that  so,  boys?" 

"Hear,  hear!"  came  from  all.  "Give  him  hell,  Jake." 

"An'  look  here,  Ben,"  he  continued,  "we've  all 
heard  what  ye  done  to  Jean  Benton  at  Long  Wharf.  By 


THE  WILL  OF  THE  PEOPLE  271 

the  great  jumpin '  punkin !  I  kin  hardly  keep  me  hands 
off  ye'r  measley  body  fer  doin'  that  to  a  woman,  an' 
her  nuthin'  bnt  a  girl.  Now  we're  goin'  to  give  ye  a 
dose  of  ye'r  own  medicine,  an'  as  ye  dumped  Jean  into 
the  harbour,  you  ye'rself  can  jist  flop  around  in  that 
frog  pond,  an'  see  how  it  feels.    Come  on,  boys." 

As  Ben  was  seized  and  lifted  from  the  ground,  he 
shrieked  and  begged  for  mercy. 

1 '  Don 't  drown  me !  don 't  drown  me ! "  he  yelled.  ' '  For 
God's  sake  don't " 

His  cries  were  cut  short  by  the  water  which  closed 
over  his  head  as  he  went  down  on  his  back  beneath  the 
leaves,  spawn  and  slime.  He  came  up  like  a  cork,  chok- 
ing and  sputtering,  and  started  to  wade  to  the  shore 
as  the  water  was  only  up  to  his  arm-pits.  But  as  he 
attempted  to  scramble  out,  he  was  pushed  back  and 
forced  to  stand  in  his  wretched  plight  for  several  min- 
utes. At  length  he  was  allowed  to  leave  the  pond,  and 
witli  teeth  chattering  with  cold  and  fear,  he  was  told 
to  dress  himself  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Mud  and  slime  mingling  with  the  drenched  feathers 
and  tar  made  him  look  more  grotesque  than  ever  as  he 
struggled  into  his  clothes. 

"Now  clear  out,"  Jake  ordered,  when  Ben  was  at 
last  dressed,  "an'  thank  ye'r  stars  that  we  didn't  skin 
ye  alive." 

Ben  waited  for  no  second  bidding,  but  darted  away 
and  ran  as  he  had  never  run  in  his  life,  followed  by 
the  shouts,  jeers  and  laughter  of  the  crowd. 

The  men  were  now  in  a  dangerous  mood  and  ready 
for  any  mischief.  The  fire  of  pent-up  passion  had  at 
last  burst  forth,  and  the  mob  spirit  was  upon  them. 


272  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Squire  Hawkins/ '  shouted  some  one.  "Let's  give 
him  a  dose." 

"The  Squire,  the  Squire,' '  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth.    "His  turn  next." 

What  would  have  happened  is  hard  to  tell,  had  not 
Douglas  at  that  instant  stepped  forward.  His  sudden 
appearance  arrested  the  men,  and  they  at  once  stopped 
their  clamour  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

"I  wouldn't  do  anything  more  to-night,  men,"  he 
advised.  "You  are  greatly  excited  now,  and  if  you  are 
not  careful  you  might  do  something  that  you  will  re- 
gret. You  have  taught  Ben  a  severe  lesson,  and  one 
he  thoroughly  deserved.  But  do  not  lay  hands  upon  a 
Justice  of  the  Peace.  He  can  be  dealt  with  in  another 
way." 

"How?"  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"I  have  just  come  from  the  city,"  Douglas  explained, 
"where  I  have  been  in  consultation  with  one  of  the 
ablest  lawyers  there.  He  is  a  special  friend  of  mine, 
and  he  will  be  here  to-morrow.  He  will  deal  with 
Squire  Hawkins  far  more  effectively  than  we  can." 

"Who  is  he?"  several  asked. 

"Charles  Garton,  head  of  the  firm  of  Garton  &  Tra- 
cey.  I  think  you  all  have  heard  of  him.  It  was  he 
who  rounded  up  that  bunch  of  Government  grafters  last 
year  and  forced  them  to  disgorge  their  ill-gotten  gains. ' ' 

"Sure,  sure,  we  know  him,"  was  the  cry.  "Hurrah 
for  Garton!    He'll  settle  with  Hen  Hawkins  all  right." 

Seeing  that  his  words  were  having  the  desired  effect 
and  that  the  crowd  was  slowly  dispersing,  Douglas 
turned  to  Jake  and  told  him  to  come  home.  Without 
a  word  the  latter  obeyed,  and  together  the  two  crossed 


THE  WILL  OF  THE  PEOPLE  273 

the  field  to  the  main  road.  Once  there,  Jake's  tongue 
became  unloosened. 

" Where  did  ye  drop  from,  John?"  he  asked.  "I 
didn't  know  ye  was  anywhere  around." 

"I  came  from  the  city  on  the  afternoon  train,  and 
when  your  wife  told  me  what  was  going  on,  I  hurried 
to  the  wharf  as  fast  as  possible." 

"An' did  ye  see  it  all?" 

"Only  the  dip  in  the  frog-pond,  but  I  could  easily 
guess  the  rest." 

Douglas  did  not  go  home  with  Jake,  but  parted  from 
him  at  the  road  leading  to  the  professor's  house.  He 
wished  to  see  Nell,  as  he  had  many  things  to  tell  her. 

He  received  a  hearty  welcome,  and  felt  very  much  at 
home  as  he  sat  by  the  professor's  side  and  told  him 
about  his  visit  to  the  city,  and  of  his  return  to  Rixton 
just  in  time  to  see  Ben's  plunge  into  the  frog-pond. 

Nell's  face  grew  white  and  a  startled  expression  came 
into  her  eyes  as  Douglas  related  what  the  men  of  the 
place  had  done  that  night.  Her  concern  was  not  for 
Ben,  but  for  those  responsible  for  his  punishment.  She 
felt  sure  that  Simon  Stubbles  would  take  some  speedy 
method  of  revenge,  and  that  the  first  object  of  his  at- 
would  be  the  man  sitting  near  her  father.  She 
wished  to  warn  him  of  his  danger.  But  how  could 
she  speak  and  not  reveal  her  keen  interest  in.  his  wel- 
fare? 

"Have  you  had  any  supper?"  she  asked  so  suddenly 
that  Douglas  looked  somewhat  surprised. 

"No,  I  have  not  had  time  to  think  of  eating,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"Then  you  must  have  something  right  away,"  and 


274  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Nell  rose  to  her  feet,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  "be  mov- 
ing about  in  order  to  hide  her  excitement. 

Douglas  begged  her  not  to  mind  as  he  could  get  a 
bite  when  he  went  home.  But  Nell  would  not  listen  to 
his  protests,  and  in  a  short  time  she  brought  in  a  tray 
containing  a  fresh,  boiled  egg,  several  slices  of  excellent 
home-made  bread,  cake  and  tea. 

This  act  of  thoughtfulness  touched  Douglas  deeply, 
and  the  look  that  he  gave  Nell  brought  the  colour  back 
to  her  cheeks  and  made  her  very  happy.  As  he  ate, 
he  told  about  his  visit  to  the  city,  and  especially  about 
the  evening- he-  had  spent  with  the  Gartons.  He  said 
nothing,  however,  about  what  the  lawyer  had  told  him 
concerning  Simon  Stubbles'  financial  difficulties;  neither 
did  he  say  anything  about  the  recovery  of  the  Big  Chief 
mining  concern. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  Douglas  bade  the  pro- 
fessor good-night. 

"I  am  anxious  to  hear  how  you  are  getting  on  with 
your  book,"  he  told  him.  "But  we  can  have  a  long 
talk  when  I   come  again." 

Nell  accompanied  Douglas  to  the  front  door,  and 
for  a  while  they  stood  there  looking  out  upon  the  beau- 
tiful night.  Then  Douglas  told  her  about  Simon  Stub- 
bles' financial  embarrassment,  and  how  he  had  appealed 
to  Garton  for  assistance.  By  the  light  of  the  moon  he 
could  see  Nell's  face  which,  so  he  thought,  was  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  owing  to  the  serious  expression  de- 
picted upon  it.  He  could  not  divine  the  nature  of  her 
thoughts,  but  when  he  mentioned  the  good  news  of  the 
Big  Chief  mine,  she  gave  a  cry  of  joy,  and  her  face 
brightened. 

"I  can  hardly  believe  it  is  true,"  and  she  clasped 


THE  WILL  OF  THE  PEOPLE  275 

her  hands  before  her.  "Are  you  sure  there  has  been 
no  mistake ?" 

1 '  Xone  at  all.  Mr*  Garton  will  be  here  to-morrow, 
and  he  will  take  over  your  interest  in  the  mine,  pro- 
viding your  father  agrees." 

"Oh,  he  will  agree  all  right.  What  a  joy  it  will  be 
to  us  all,"  and  she  turned  her  grateful  eyes  toward 
her  companion's  face. 

It  was  difficult  for  Douglas  at  that  moment  not  to 
reveal  to  Nell  all  that  was  in  his  heart.  He  longed  to 
tell  her  of  his  love,  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms,  and  to  claim 
her  as  his  own.  But  no,  he  must  wait.  He  would  not 
speak  to  her  until  he  had  thrown  off  his  disguise.  He 
believed  that  she  cared  for  him,  perhaps  loved  him. 
But  what  would  she  think  if  she  knew  who  he  really 
was,  and  what  a  deceiver  he  had  been? 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  with  light- 
ning rapidity.  He  could  hardly  trust  himself  to  speak, 
so  they  both  stood  there  strangely  silent. 

1 '  I  must  go  now, ' '  and  Douglas  reached  out  his  hand. 
"I  shall  see  you  to-morrow." 

As  Douglas'  hand  closed  over  Nell's  he  held  it  for 
a  few  seconds,  and  it  was  a  great  joy  to  him  that  she 
did  not  try  to  draw  it  away.  Quickly  stooping,  he 
touched  her  hand  with  his  lips,  and  then  without  an- 
other word  he  left  her  and  walked  rapidly  away  from 
the  house. 

Sometime  later,  in  the  solitude  of  her  own  room, 
Nell's  lips  pressed  the  spot  where  the  kiss  had  fallen. 
Her  eyes  were  bright  with  a  new-found  joy,  and  her 
face  was  radiant  with  the  happiness  of  love. 


CHAPTER  XXYIH 

KNUCKLING  UNDER 

SIMON  STUBBLES  was  very  angry  at  what  had 
taken  place  the  previous  evening.  He  was  trou- 
bled, as  well,  over  his  financial  difficulties,  for  he  knew 
that  if  he  could  not  raise  the  ten  thousand  dollars  he 
was  a  ruined  man.  Even  now  he  was  aware  that  his 
influence  in  Rixton  was  waning,  and  what  would  it  be 
if  the  crash  should  come?  He  had  dominated  the  peo- 
ple because  of  his  position  and  supposed  wealth.  They 
had  bowed  to  his  slightest  will,  and  had  allowed  him 
to  rule.  But  now  they  were  taking  matters  into  their 
own  hands,  and  had  inflicted  a  most  humiliating  pun- 
ishment upon  his  only  son. 

Squire  Hawkins  was  in  the  room  with  him  this  morn- 
ing, and  had  related  in  detail  what  had  happened  to 
Ben. 

"It  is  most  disgraceful,  sir,  and  you  must  punish 
the  ringleaders  at  once, ' '  he  told  him.  ' '  That  will  teach 
the  others  a  lesson.'' 

"And  who  are  the  ringleaders?"  Stubbles  asked. 

"Why,  you  know,  don't  you?  They  are  Jake  Jukes 
and  Tom  Totten;  both  very  dangerous  men." 

"And  who  put  them  up  to  the  job?" 

"Did  any  one?" 

"Certainly.  It  was  Jake's  hired  man;  he's  the  one 
who  did  it." 

276 


KNUCKLING  UNDER  277 

"But  he  was  in  the  city,  so  I  understand,  and  didn't 
get  back  until  the  deed  was  about  done." 

"Erin,"  and  Stubbles  gave  a  grunt  of  disgust,  "he 
was  the  chief  mover  in  the  affair,  mark  my  word.  I've 
had  my  eye  on  that  fellow  ever  since  he  came  to  the 
place.  He 's  a  stirrer  up  of  trouble.  I  knew  it  from  the 
first,  and  did  my  best  to  get  rid  of  him,  but  he  defied  me 
and  has  remained,  notwithstanding  my  orders  for  him 
to  leave." 

1 '  Then  it  will  be  necessary  to  make  an  example  of  him, 
sir,"  the  Squire  replied.  "Just  say  the  word,  and  I 
shall  have  him  brought  before  me." 

At  that  instant  the  door-bell  rang,  and  a  few  sec- 
onds later  Douglas  and  Charles  Garton  were  ushered 
into  the  room.  Both  Stubbles  and  the  Squire  sprang 
to  their  feet  when  they  beheld  the  very  man  they  had 
been  denouncing.  Stubbles  was  about  to  launch  forth 
in  hot,  angry  words  when  his  eye  rested  upon  the  law- 
yer. In  an  instant  his  manner  changed,  and,  ignoring 
Douglas,  he  rushed  forward  and  seized  Garton  by  the 
hand. 

"This  is  a  very  pleasant  surprise,"  he  cried.  "I  had 
no  idea  that  you  were  in  the  place.  Allow  me  to  intro- 
duce my  friend,  Squire  Hawkins." 

Though  outwardly  affable,  both  Stubbles  and  the 
Squire  were  very  uneasy  at  the  arrival  of  Jake's  hired 
man  in  company  with  the  ablest  lawyer  in  the  city. 
What  does  it  mean?  each  asked  himself,  and  anxiously 
awaited  further  developments. 

"I  have  come  to  see  you  on  special  business,  Mr. 
Stubbles,"  the  lawyer  began,  "and  as  my  time  is  lim- 
ited, I  wish  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you  at  once." 

"Why,  certainly,"  Stubbles  returned.     "We  can  be 


278  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

as  private  here  as  anywhere,  sir.  Your — er — compan- 
ion can  wait  for  yon  at  the  store. ' ' 

1 '  No,  I  wish  him  to  stay  where  he  is, ' '  Garton  replied. 

1 '  Do  you  wish  Squire  Hawkins  to  remain,  too  ? ' '  Stub- 
bles anxiously  enquired. 

"That  is  for  you  to  decide.  It  is  immaterial  to  me, 
at  present,  whether  he  goes  or  stay,  though  I  wish  to 
speak  to  him  later.' ' 

"He  might  as  well  remain,  then,"  Stubbles  replied. 
"We  have  been  bosom  friends  for  years,  and  I  always 
take  him  into  my  confidence.  He  is  a  man  to  be  re- 
lied upon." 

"I  shall  come  to- the  point  at  once,  Mr.  Stubbles,"  the 
lawyer  began.  "You  have  written  to  me  telling  of 
your  financial  difficulties,  and  asking  for  a  loan  of  ten 
thousand  dollars." 

Squire  Harkins  stared  in  amazement  at  these  words. 
His  weak  lower  jaw  dropped,  and  his  mouth  flew  sud- 
denly open.  This  was  certainly  a  remarkable  revela?- 
tion. 

"But  before  I  go  further,"  the  lawyer  continued,  "I 
would  like  to  know  the  cause  of  your  unfortunate  sit- 
uation. It  is  a  great  surprise,  for  you  have  been  do- 
ing a  big  business." 

"I  know  it,"  and  Stubbles'  eyes  dropped.  "I  would 
not  be  in  this  position  to-day  but  for  my  family.  My 
daughters,  I  regret  to  say,  have  not  been  as  careful  as 
they  might  have  been,  but  my  son  is  really  the  one  who 
has  ruined  me.  He  has  spent  my  money  lavishly  and 
extravagantly,  and  though  I  have  reasoned  with  him 
many  a  time,  it  was  to  no  avail.  I  know  I  have  been 
weak,  and  the  money  that  should  have  been  used  in 
connection  with  my  business  has  gone  to  him.     There, 


KNUCKLING  UNDER  279 

you  have  my  confession,  sir,"  and  the  unhappy  man 
mopped  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief. 

"And  ten  thousand  dollars  will  tide  you  over  the 
trouble,  do  you  think?"  Garton  asked. 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"And  what  about  your  son?  Will  any  of  it  go  to 
him?" 

"Not  a  cent.  I  am  done  with  him  as  far  as  money 
matters  are  concerned.  He  must  look  out  for  himself 
after  this.    I  have  been  taught  a  severe  lesson." 

"And  suppose  I  do  not  get  the  money  for  you,  what 
then?" 

"I  am  ruined." 

"Can  you  not  get  it  elsewhere?" 

"No,  not  that  amount.  I  have  tried  and  failed.  Six 
thousand  was  the  best  any  one  would  do.  I  hope  you 
can  favour  me,  sir,"  and  Stubbles  turned  his  eyes 
beseechingly  upon  the  lawyer's  face. 

"It  all  depends  upon  my  young  friend  here,"  Garton 
replied,  "and  that  is  the  reason  why  I  have  asked  him 
to  remain  in  the  room." 

"It  depends  upon  him!"  Stubbles  exclaimed  in  as- 
tonishment, as  he  looked  toward  Douglas.  "I  do  not 
understand  your  meaning,  sir." 

"You  know  him,  then?" 

"Yes,  I  have  met  him  several  times.  He  is  Jake 
Jukes'  hired  man,  so  I  understand." 

"And  he  is  the  man  you  have  been  persecuting  ever 
since  he  came  to  this  place.    Why  was  that?" 

"There  was  no  persecution,  I  assure  you,"  Stub- 
bles hotly  defended.  "He  made  himself  most  obnoxious 
to  people  in  general,  and  for  the  welfare  of  the  com- 
munity I  ordered  him  to  leave  the  parish." 


280  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"In  what  way  did  he  make  himself  obnoxious ?" 

"He  insulted  my  son  one  night  at  a  quiet  dance  in 
the  hall  at  the  Corner,  and  broke  up  the  gathering. " 

"And  what  was  your  son  doing?  How  did  he  be- 
have that  night  f    Did  you  ever  think  of  that  ? ' ' 

As  Stubbles  did  not  reply  but  dropped  his  eyes  to 
the  floor,  Douglas  turned  upon  him. 

"It  was  your  son,  Ben,  who  made  the  trouble  that 
night,  Mr.  Stubbles, "  he  charged.  "He  acted  more 
like  a  beast  than  a  human  being,  and  because  I  inter- 
fered and  checked  him,  he  started  out  to  have  re- 
venge. And  how  did  he  do  it?  In  a  manly  way? 
Oh,  no.  He  persuaded  you  to  order  me  from  the  place, 
and  when  I  refused  to  obey,  he  set  men  to  waylay  me 
at  night  along  the  road.  He  even  gave  the  men  liquor 
to  induce  them  to  carry  out  his  evil  designs,  and  then 
at  the  trial  he  blasphemously  denied  it  all.  And  you," 
he  added,  turning  to  Squire  Hawkins,  "allowed  British 
justice  to  be  perverted.' ' 

"Are  you  not  afraid  to  make  such  a  charge  as  that, 
young  man?"  the  Squire  pompously  asked.  "Do  you 
not  already  realise  the  danger  you  are  in  from  last 
night's  affair?     How  can  you  account  for  that?" 

"Yes,  that's  what  I  want  to  know,"  Stubbles  ques- 
tioned. "Did  you  not  stir  up  Jake  Jukes  and  others  to 
set  upon  my  son  and  treat  him  in  a  most  shameful  man- 
ner?" 

"I  knew  nothing  at  all  about  it,"  Douglas  explained, 
"until  my  arrival  from  the  city  last  night." 

"You  lie!"  and  Stubbles  stamped  furiously  upon  the 
floor.  "Do  you  expect  me  or  any  one  else  to  believe 
such  a  thing  as  that  ? ' ' 


KNUCKLING  UNDER  281 

"Ask  Jake  and  the  rest  of  the  men.  They  know  that 
I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair." 

"I  wouldn't  believe  what  they  said  if  they  swore 
to  it  on  all  the  Bibles  in  the  world.  They  are  nothing 
but  a  pack  of  curs,  and  I'll  fix  them,  see  if  I  don't." 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Mr.  Stubbles,"  the 
lawyer  quietly  remarked.  "If  you  do,  not  a  cent  of 
money  do  you  get  from  me." 

"Keep  your  money,  then,"  Stubbles  retorted.  "I'm 
not  going  to  be  brow-beaten  by  you  or  any  one  else,  and 
especially  by  a  farm-hand.  I  shall  get  along  some- 
how, but  I  will  have  satisfaction  for  the  injury  that  was 
committed  last  night.  Ben  is  my  son,  and  I  am  going 
to  stand  by  him  no  matter  what  happens." 

"Steady,  Mr.  Stubbles,  steady,"  the  lawyer  advised. 
* '  You  must  not  talk  that  way.  You  are  not  out  of  deep 
water  yet." 

"I  will  stay  in,  then,  and  you  can  all  go  to  blades. 
You  want  me  to  back  down  and  say  I  have  been  in  the 
fault.  But  you've  got  the  wrong  bull  by  the  horns  this 
time." 

"Am  I  to  understand,  then,  that  you  will  not  need 
the  ten  thousand  dollars  from  me?"  Garton  asked. 

"No,  not  under  your  conditions.  You  want  me  to 
apologise  to  him,"  and  he  nodded  toward  Douglas.  "If 
I  do,  you'll  let  me  have  the  money.    Is  that  it?" 

Cp. — 6f — Handyman,  can  speak  for  himself,"  Gar- 
ton  replied. 

"I  am  not  thinking  so  much  of  myself,  Mr.  Stubbles," 
Douglas  told  him,  "as  of  the  parish  in  general.  If 
you  agree  not  to  act  like  a  tyrant  in  the  future  and  not 
to  meddle  in  Church  matters,  and  stop  persecuting  every 


282  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

clergyman  who  comes  here  unless  he  bows  to  your  slight- 
est wish,  then  I  am  satisfied.' ' 

"Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool?"  Stubbles  flung  back. 
* '  What  impudence !  Why,  I  never  heard  the  like  of  it 
before!  And  I  won't  allow  it!  You  can  go,  both  of 
you.     I'll  attend  to  my  own  affairs,  sink  or  swim." 

Stubbles  rose  to  his  feet,  signifying  that  the  discus- 
sion was  at  an  end. 

"So  you  don't  want  the  money,  then?"  Garton  asked. 

"No,  and  that's  the  end  of  it." 

"Very  well,"  and  the  lawyer  rubbed  his  chin  in  a 
thoughtful  manner,  "that's  settled.  And  you  intend 
to  prosecute  the  men  who  took  part  in  last  night's  af- 
fair?" 

"Yes,  to  the  limit  of  the  law,  especially  that  man 
there,"  and  Stubbles  pointed  his  finger  scornfully  at 
Douglas.  ' '  He  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  trouble,  and  he 
shall  suffer  for  it." 

"Well,  look  here,  Mr.  Stubbles,"  and  Garton  rose 
suddenly  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke,  "I  warn  you  that  the 
moment  you  do  that,  I  shall  have  your  son  arrested  for 
attempted  murder." 

Had  Simon  Stubbles  received  a  direct  blow  in  the 
face,  he  would  not  have  been  more  surprised  than  at 
these  words.  His  eyes  bulged  in  amazement,  and  he 
became  as  pale  as  death. 

"What,  what  are  you  saying?"  he  gasped.  "Surely 
you  must  be  mistaken.  Ben,  my  son!  attempted  mur- 
der!" 

"Yes,  that  was  what  he  did.  He  pushed  a  woman  over 
Long  Wharf  in  the  city,  and  left  her  to  her  fate.  And 
she  would  have  been  drowned  but  for  timely  assist- 
ance. ' ' 


KNUCKLING  UNDER  283 

"Oh,  Lord!"  and  Stubbles  buried  his  face  in  hia 
hands.  "I  knew  that  Ben  was  wild,  but  I  had  no  idea 
he  would  do  anything  like  that." 

Presently  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  lawyer's  face. 

"Are  you  sure  it  was  Ben?"  he  asked.  "There  may 
have  been  a  mistake.     Perhaps  it  was  some  one  else." 

"No,  there  has  beea  no  mistake.  It  was  your  son 
who  did  it;  we  have  good  proof  of  that." 

"And  who  was  the  woman?  Much  depends  upon 
who  she  is.    It  may  be  a  case  of  black-mail." 

"It  was  a  girl  from  your  own  place,  a  neighbour  of 
yours,  Jean  Benton." 

With  a  gurgled  groan  of  abandoned  hope,  Stubbles 
sank  back  and  remained  huddled  in  his  chair,  a  pitiable 
object  of  misery.  The  man  who  had  acted  the  tyrant 
for  years,  who  hardly  knew  the  meaning  of  mercy,  and 
had  crushed  all  who  opposed  him,  was  now  being  paid 
back  tenfold.    As  he  had  sown,  so  was  he  reaping. 

"We  must  go  now,"  the  lawyer  reminded  him,  after 
a  few  seconds  of  silence.  "But  remember,  Mr.  Stubbles, 
the  instant  you  lay  a  charge  against  Mr.  Handyman 
here,  or  any  of  the  men  who  took  part  in  last  night's 
affair,  you  will  know  what  to  expect.  And  as  for  you, 
Mr.  Hawkins,"  and  he  turned  to  the  Squire,  "I  shall 
deal  with  you  later  for  wilfully  perverting  justice. 
You  acted  with  cowardice  and  partiality  at  the  trial, 
and  you  must  put  up  with  the  consequences." 

"Don't  do  anything,  for  God's  sake!"  Hawkins 
cried,  now  smitten  with  a  terrible  fear.  ' '  I  will  do  what 
you  say,  but  don't  take  action,  I  beseech  you.  It  will 
ruin  my  business." 

This  was  just  what  Garton  wanted,  and  an  amused 


284  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

twinkle  danced  in  his  eyes.  He  hesitated,  however,  for 
a  few  seconds  as  if  lost  in  deep  thought. 

"Very  well,  then,  Mr.  Hawkins,"  he  at  length  re- 
plied, "if  you  are  willing  to  make  a  public  acknowl- 
edgment of  your  wrong  decision,  I  will  take  no  notice 
this  time.  As  you  know  from  my  record,  I  am  not  eas- 
ily turned  aside  when  I  once  make  up  my  mind.  How- 
ever, I  will  make  an  exception  this  time,  if  you  obey 
me  at  once." 

"I  will,  sir,  I  certainly  will.     What  shall  I  do?" 

"Write  out  a  plain  confession  of  your  wrong  decision 
at  the  trial  and  post  it  on  the  door  of  your  store,  or  in 
some  other  public  place,  where  all  can  see  it.  That  is 
what  I  demand." 

"I  shall  do  it  at  once,  sir,"  came  the  low  response. 
It  was  quite  evident  that  the  Squire  was  feeling  keenly 
his  humiliation,  but  there  was  nothing  else  for  him  to 
do,  as  he  had  a  great  fear  and  respect  for  the  lawyer 
standing  before  him. 

' '  I  am  glad  you  are  acting  like  a  sensible  man, ' '  Gar- 
ton  told  him.  "It  will  save  you  a  great  deal  of  trou- 
ble.   I  must  hurry  away  now,  as  it  is  getting  late." 

"Wait  a  minute,  sir,"  Stubbles  ordered,  as  he  lifted 
his  haggard  face.  "I  have  heard  your  instructions  to 
the  Squire,  now  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  ? " 

"Why,  I  thought  you  didn't  want  anything  more  to 
do  with  me,"  the  lawyer  exclaimed  in  surprise. 

1  *  Oh,  that  was  before  I  heard  what  Ben  did  at  Long 
Wharf.  I  have  changed  my  mind  in  the  last  few  min- 
utes, and  see  things  in  a  different  light.  He  can  look 
out  for  himself  and  fight  his  own  battles  after  this. 
It's  no  use  for  me  to  cut  off  my  nose  to  spite  my  face. 
My  wife  and  I  will  be  worse  than  beggars,  and  my 


KNUCKLING  UNDER  285 

daughters  will  be  thrown  upon  the  world  helpless,  if  I 
fail  in  business.  Extravagance  has  brought  me  to  this, 
and  I  have  been  taught  a  scorching  lesson.  I  need  that 
money,  sir,  so  go  ahead  and  tell  me  what  I  must  do. 
It  will  mean  humiliation  in  either  case,  so  I  might  as» 
well  make  the  best  of  a  nasty  job." 

Had  Douglas  been  animated  merely  by  the  spirit  of 
revenge,  he  would  have  been  more  than  satisfied  at  the 
outcome  of  this  interview.  But  it  was  only  justice  he 
wanted,  and  the  assurance  that  Simon  Stubbles  and 
Squire  Hawkins  would  behave  themselves  in  the  fu- 
ture. He  felt  sure  that  they  would  after  this  severe 
lesson. 

1 'Suppose  we  let  the  matter  end,"  he  suggested  to 
the  lawyer,  when  Stubbles  had  acknowledged  his  de- 
feat. "If  these  men  are  willing  to  conduct  themselves 
properly  in  the  future,  why  not  give  them  another 
chance?    I  am  satisfied  if  you  are." 

"Just  as  you  say,"  the  lawyer  indifferently  replied, 
as  he  glanced  at  his  watch.     "It's  up  to  you." 

"Well,  let  it  rest  at  that,  then.  I  don't  wish  to 
carry  the  matter  any  further.  Give  Mr.  Stubbles  the 
money,  and  save  him  from  failure." 

At  these  words  Stubbles  sprang  to  his  feet,  while  a 
new  light  of  hope  gleamed  in  his  eyes. 

"And  you  won't  humiliate  me?"  he  asked.  "You 
won't  demand  a  public  confession?" 

1  ■  Not  if  you  agree  to  our  wishes,  and  I  think  you  un- 
wind now  what  they  are." 

"I  do,  I  surely  do,  and  I  shall  see  that  they  are  ful- 
filled," he  cried. 

et  us  shake  on  it,  then,"  and  Douglas  reached  out 
his  hand. 


286  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

Stubbles  seized  it,  and  as  he  did  so  tears  came  into 
his  eyes  and  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  It  was  the  spirit 
of  forgiveness  that  had  moved  him  and  caused  his 
emotion. 

"That  is  good,"  and  Garton  smiled  approvingly.  "I 
hope  I  shall  never  be  called  to  this  parish  on  such  a 
business  again. " 

"You  never  will,"  Stubbles  emphatically  replied. 
"But  come  and  visit  me  again,  sir,  and  bring  Mr.  Han- 
dyman with  you.  I  don't  think  you  will  find  anything 
amiss  then,  eh,  Hawkins?" 

1 '  Sure,  sure, ' '  the  Squire  fervently  replied,  as  he  held 
out  his  hand  to  bid  Garton  and  Douglas  good-bye.  "I 
think  that  things  will  be  different  in  Rixton  after  this. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


THE  CHALLENGE 


FOR  two  days  there  was  intense  excitement  through- 
out the  entire  parish  of  Rixton.  The  one  great 
topic  of  conversation  was  the  punishment  Ben  Stubbles 
had  received.  There  was  considerable  anxiety  as  well, 
for  those  who  had  taken  part  in  the  affair  fully  expected 
that  Simon  Stubbles  would  hit  back  hard.  Just  what 
he  would  do,  they  had  no  idea,  but  they  realised  that  it 
was  not  his  nature  to  overlook  an  insult,  especially  to 
his  only  son.  It  was,  therefore,  a  great  relief  when 
the  news  spread  that  nothing  would  be  done,  and  that 
Simon  Stubbles  had  agreed  to  allow  the  matter  to  rest. 

How  this  information  leaked  out  was  never  fully 
known,  though  it  was  surmised  that  Squire  Hawkins 
had  given  away  the  secret.  Many  were  the  stories  in 
circulation,  and  the  slightest  incident  was  greatly  en- 
larged according  to  the  imagination  of  the  narrator. 
It  was  believed  that  Jake  Jukes'  hired  man  had  been 
a  detective  in  disguise,  or  anyway,  a  man  who  had  con- 
siderable influence.  People  recalled  everything  he  had 
said  and  done  since  coming  to  the  place.  His  wrestling 
powers  were  freely  commented  upon,  as  well  as  his  abil- 
bo  play  the  violin.  They  remembered,  too,  how  he 
had  faced  Ben  Stubbles  at  the  dance,  and  had  defeated 
single-handed  the  men  sent  to  waylay  him  along  the 
road  at  night.    In  short,  he  became  such  a  mystery  to 

287 


288  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

all,  that  they  began  to  look  upon  him  as  a  hero,  and 
ascribed  to  him  wonderful  powers,  somewhat  akin  to 
those  bestowed  upon  heroes  of  ancient  legends.  This 
feeling  became  intensified  owing  to  Douglas'  absence 
from  the  parish  since  the  day  of  Simon  Stubbles'  hu- 
miliation. He  had  gone  with  the  clever  lawyer  at  a 
Tbreak-neck  speed,  so  it  was  said,  and  had  not  returned. 

But  after  two  days  the  people  of  Rixton  had  some- 
thing else  to  talk  about.  It  was  the  grim  spectre  of 
war  which  had  suddenly  appeared,  and  sent  a  chill  to 
every  heart.  The  newspapers  were  full  of  it,  and  told 
of  the  clash  between  France  and  Germany,  and  of  the 
base  violation  of  Belgium  by  the  advancing  Huns. 
Then  came  England's  declaration  of  war,  and  all  knew 
that  Canada,  as  a  part  of  the  British  Empire,  must 
fight,  too.  People  were  hungry  for  the  least  scrap  of 
news,  and  watched  anxiously  for  the  mailman  to  make 
his  daily  appearance.  But  even  then  they  were  not  sat- 
isfied, and  men  crowded  the  wharf,  impatiently  await- 
ing the  arrival  of  the  evening  boat  from  the  city,  that 
they  might  obtain  the  latest  news.  When  word  came 
that  a  Contingent  was  being  formed  for  overseas  serv- 
ice, then  all  were  aware  that  Canada  was  getting  ready 
for  her  part  in  the  titanic  conflict. 

Professor  Strong  was  greatly  excited  over  the  war, 
and  for  once  he  forgot  about  his  beloved  book.  In- 
tensely patriotic,  he  wondered  why  the  young  men  of 
the  parish  did  not  enlist.  He  longed  to  be  young  again, 
that  he  might  set  them  the  example,  and  he  talked 
eagerly  to  his  daughters  about  England's  greatness, 
and  related  story  after  story  of  her  mighty  deeds  in 
the  past.  He  was  familiar,  as  well,  with  the  scenes 
of  the  conflict,  for  he  had  once  visited  Belgium,  and 


THE  CHALLENGE  289~ 

had  even  been  at  Liege.  The  old  man  wept  when  he 
heard  how  the  Germans  had  captured  it,  and  were 
sweeping  down  upon  Brussels. 

"Just  wait,'*  he  told  them,  "until  the  English  and 
the  French  forces  meet  those  devils,  and  then  there 
will  be  a  different  tale  to  tell.  There  will  be  no  goose- 
trotting,  mark  my  word.  Oh,  if  I  were  only  able  to 
go!" 

Nell  was  as  greatly  interested  as  her  father  and  Nan. 
But  through  all  the  excitement  she  could  not  banish 
Douglas  from  her  heart  and  mind,  and  she  wondered 
what  had  become  of  him.  She  could  not  easily  forget 
the  last  time  she  had  seen  him  in  company  with  the 
lawyer.  She  recalled  how  he  had  turned  as  the  car 
was  whirling  him  away,  and  waved  his  hand  to  her 
as  she  watched  him  from  the  door.  Empty  had  told 
her  later  how  the  two  had  paid  a  visit  to  his  mother, 
and  of  their  brief  talk  with  Jean.  The  subject  of  the 
conversation  Empty  did  not  know,  and  he  felt  quite 
crestfallen,  for  his  reputation  was  at  stake.  But  he 
tried  to  make  up  for  this  lack  of  knowledge  by  telling 
of  the  numerous  stories  which  were  in  circulation  about 
Douglas.  Nell  listened  to  them  all,  though  she  made 
no  comment.  But  deep  in  her  heart  she  believed  that 
there  was  considerable  truth  in  what  she  heard.  That 
John  Handyman  was  some  one  in  disguise,  she  had 
imagined  for  some  time.  She  had  reasoned  it  over  and 
over  again  in  her  own  mind,  and  had  often  lain  awake 
at  night  thinking  about  it.  But  why  had  he  come  to 
Rixton?  And  why  should  a  man  with  his  ability  work 
as  a  farm-hand?  If  his  health  had  been  j  r-  the  could 
have  somewhat  understood  it,  for  she  had  read  of  such 
cases.    The  more  she  thought,  the  more  puzzled  she  be- 


.290  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

came.  Anyway,  she  was  sure  that  he  was  a  good  man, 
and  a  gentleman,  for  not  once  could  she  remember  the 
slightest  discourtesy  on  his  part  to  any  one. 

Two  weeks  had  now  passed  since  Douglas  left  the 
place.  No  one  had  heard  a  word  about  him,  and  Nell 
at  times  believed  that  she  would  never  see  him  again. 
That  she  had  met  him  and  had  talked  with  him, 
seemed  almost  like  a  beautiful  dream.  She  lived  in  the 
memory  of  it,  and  when  she  had  a  little  spare  time  to 
herself  she  visited  the  old  pine  tree,  where  they  had 
stood  and  talked  on  that  bright  afternoon. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that,  instead  of 
remaining  by  the  tree,  she  strolled  along  the  path  they 
had  travelled  that  day,  until  she  came  to  the  edge  of 
the  cleared  field.  Beyond  was  the  church,  standing 
bare  and  lonely,  so  she  thought.  She  recalled  how 
Douglas  had  spoken  about  his  visit  there,  and  the  sad 
neglect  of  the  building.  A  desire  now  came  upon  her 
to  see  it  for  herself,  so,  crossing  the  field,  in  a  few  min- 
utes she  was  at  the  front  door.  To  her  surprise  she 
found  it  open,  and  entering,  her  astonishment  was  still 
greater  when  she  saw  Joe  Benton  hard  at  work  cleaning 
the  floor  and  the  seats.  Upon  the  old  man's  face  was 
an  expression  of  happiness,  and  his  eyes  brightened 
as  he  paused  in  his  work. 

"I'm  getting  ready  for  the  service,"  he  explained 
in  reply  to  Nell's  question.  "There  was  no  one  else 
willing  to  do  it,  so  I  undertook  the  job." 

"But  I  didn't  hear  about  any  service,"  Nell  re- 
plied.    "When  will  it  be  held?" 

"Next  Sunday.  A  notice  was  posted  on  the  store 
this  morning  by  Simon  Stubbles.  He  got  word  from 
the  Bishop,  so  I  understand." 


THE  CHALLENGE  291 

"Is  the  new  clergyman  coming ?"  Nell  asked,  now 
greatly  interested. 

"I  can't  say,  miss.  It  may  be  the  Bishop  himself, 
for  all  I  know.  But  as  this  is  Friday,  there  isn't  much 
time  to  get  things  ready.  I  wonder  what  the  Bishop 
would  say  if  he  could  have  seen  the  church  as  it  was 
when  I  began  work.     It  was  certainly  disgraceful." 

"But  who  is  to  play  the  organ ?"  Nell  enquired. 
"And  the  hymns  should  be  practised  by  those  who  are 
willing  to  come  into  the  choir.  Is  any  one  attending  to 
that?" 

"I  am,  miss.  Si  asked  me  if  I  would  speak  to  you, 
and  I  was  going  to  your  house  on  my  way  home.  I 
hope  you  will  play,  for  then  I  know  everything  will 
be  all  right  with  the  music.  Just  try  the  organ,  and 
play  a  few  tunes.  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  heard 
them,  and  it  will  help  me  with  my  work." 

"Not  now,"  Nell  smilingly  replied.  "I  am  going 
to  dust  the  chancel  and  the  vestry;  that  is,  if  you  will 
let  me." 

1 1  Sure,  sure,  go  ahead.  You  have  as  much  right  here 
as  I  have.  We  all  have  the  same  privileges  in  the 
Father's  House,  for  we  are  all  His  children." 

Joe  had  swept  the  chancel  and  vestry  room,  so  Nell 
dusted  them  both  with  great  thoroughness.  She  was 
very  happy  at  this  work,  just  why  she  could  not  ex- 
plain. When  she  was  through,  she  polished  the  brass 
Altar  vases,  which  were  much  tarnished.  Then  she, 
went  out  of  doors  and  gathered  an  abundance  of  wild 
flowers,  and  going  into  the  vestry  she  arranged  these 
artistically  in  the  vases.  Stepping  back,  she  viewed 
her  handiwork. 

"How  will  they  do?"  she  asked,  as  Joe  just  then 


292  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

looked  in  at  the  door.  "Don't  you  think  they  will  suit 
any  one?" 

"I  should  say  so,"  was  the  enthusiastic  reply. 
"Even  the  Bishop  himself  couldn't  find  any  fault  with 
them." 

When  the  flowers  had  been  placed  upon  the  Com- 
munion Table,  and  the  last  book  had  been  carefully 
dusted  and  arranged,  Nell  sat  down  at  the  little  organ 
and  began  to  play.  Joe  came  and  sat  down  in  one  of 
the  choir  seats  at  the  left.  Hymn  after  hymn  Nell 
played,  and  when  she  at  last  stopped,  Joe  stepped  softly 
to  her  side. 

"Won't  you  play  one  more?"  he  asked.  "Just  one; 
it's  my  favourite." 

"Why,  certainly.     What  is  it?" 

"The  Ninety  and  Nine.  It's  number  seven-seventy- 
nine.  And  won't  you  sing  it,  miss?  I  haven't  heard  it 
sung  for  a  long  time,  though  I  read  it  most  every  day." 

Having  played  the  air,  Nell  began  to  sing,  and  as 
her  clear,  sweet  voice  welled  forth,  Joe  leaned  eagerly 
forward  so  as  not  to  miss  a  word.  There  were  tears 
in  his  eyes,  but  his  face  was  beaming  with  joy  and 
peace.  Nell  sang  the  hymn  through,  and  when  she 
finished  and  the  last  throbbing  notes  of  the  organ 
ceased,  a  sobbing  moan  drifted  up  the  aisle  of  the  old 
church.  Both  Nell  and  Joe  turned  quickly  around,  and 
to  their  surprise  they  saw  a  woman  kneeling  upon  the 
floor  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 

"Jean,  my  Jean!"  Joe  cried,  as  he  sprang  from  his 
seat,  hurried  down  the  aisle  and  caught  his  daughter 
in  his  arms.  Then  there  was  silence,  broken  only  by 
the  sobs  of  the  kneeling  girl. 

Nell  stood  near  and  watched  them,  uncertain  what 


THE  CHALLENGE  293 

to  do.  She  was  deeply  affected  by  this  scene,  and 
thought  it  best  that  the  two  should  be  alone.  Softly 
she  moved  toward  the  door,  and  had  almost  reached 
it,  when  Jean  sprang  after  her  and  caught  her  by  the 
arm. 

"Don't  go,  Nell,"  she  cried,  "until  you  have  for- 
given me.  Tell  me  you  forgive  me,"  and  once  more 
Jean  fell  upon  her  knees  and  seized  Nell's  hand  in 
hers,  and  held  it  with  a  firm  grip. 

Stooping,  Nell  placed  her  disengaged  arm  lovingly 
about  the  girl's  body,  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

"I  forgive  you  all,  Jean,"  she  said.  "So  get  up. 
Why  should  you  kneel  to  me?" 

"And  you  know?  You  understand?"  Jean  asked, 
lifting  up  her  pale  face. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  know  everything,  and  you  have  al- 
ways had  my  sincere  sympathy.  But  how  did  you  hap- 
pen to  come  here?" 

"I  wanted  to  see  the  old  church  once  more,  where 
I  used  to  worship,  and  was  so  happy  in  the  years  now 
gone  forever.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  any  one  here, 
and  was  greatly  surprised  when  I  heard  you  singing. 
It  was  that  old  hymn  which  affected  me  so  much,  and 
broke  me  down  completely." 

"I  am  so  glad  that  you  came  just  when  you  did," 
Nell  replied.  "You  have  been  in  my  thoughts  day  and 
night,  and  I  knew  that  you  would  come  to  see  me  some 
day.    You  will  come,  will  you  not?" 

But  Jean  shook  her  head  and  looked  longingly  around 
the  cburch,  as  if  taking  a  final  farewell  of  all  the  ob- 
jects which  were  so  dear  and  familiar  to  her. 

"I  am  going  away,"  she  quietly  said,  "and  may 
never  be  back  again." 


294  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

"Don't  say  that,  Jean,"  her  father  implored.  "Why 
should  you  leave  us  when  we  want  you  so  much?  Your 
mother's  heart  is  aching  for  her  little  girl." 

"I  know  it,  I  know  it,  daddy  dear.  I  have  been 
very  bad  and  cruel  to  you  both.  But  I  have  some- 
thing to  wipe  out,  and  I  shall  never  rest  content  until 
I  have  done  what  I  can  to  atone  for  my  past  sad  mis- 
take in  life." 

"Where  are  you  going,  Jean?"  Nell  asked. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  now.  But  it  is  a  great  work  to 
which  I  am  going,  and  some  day  you  will  be  proud  of 
me,  and  so  will  the  people  of  Rixton.  They  scorn  me 
now,  and  they  surely  have  good  reason  for  doing  so." 

"But,  Jean  darling,  you  will  tell  us  where  you  are 
going  before  you  leave,  will  you  not?"  her  father  asked. 
"You  will  come  home  first?" 

"Yes,  I  shall  go  with  you  now.  And  in  a  few  days 
you  will  all  know  where  I  am  going,  and  what  I  ex- 
pect to  do.  Come,  daddy,  let  us  go.  Good-bye,  Nell, 
I  shall  see  you  before  I  leave." 

Taking  her  father  by  the  arm,  she  led  him  from  the 
church,  and  up  the  lane  leading  to  the  main  road. 
Nell  watched  them  until  they  had  disappeared  from 
view.  She  then  closed  the  church  and  hurried  across 
the  field,  for  it  was  getting  late  and  her  father  would 
be  waiting  for  her.  But  her  heart  was  lighter  than 
it  had  been  for  days.  Jean  was  her  old  self  again,  and 
she  was  so  thankful.  But  she  wondered  where  she  was 
going,  and  what  she  was  about  to  do.  That  it  was  some- 
thing noble,  she  could  tell  by  the  expression  of  hope 
in  Jean's  eyes,  and  the  look  of  animation  which  had 
overspread  her  face  as  she  told  about  her  intended 
departure. 


THE  CHALLENGE  295 

When  Nell  reached  the  church  Sunday  afternoon, 
she  found  a  large  number  of  people  already  there.  It 
had  been  rumoured  that  the  Bishop  was  to  hold  the 
service,  and  it  was  expected  that  he  would  speak  about 
the  war,  and  also  have  something  to  say  concerning 
the  new  clergyman  who  was  to  come  to  the  parish. 

Nell  had  not  been  idle  since  Friday,  and  Saturday 
night  the  first  choir  practice  in  months  had  been  held. 
The  members  were  now  all  in  their  places  as  she  en- 
tered the  church  and  went  at  once  to  the  organ.  Hav- 
ing arranged  her  books,  she  next  placed  a  list  of  hymns 
in  a  hymn  book  and  took  it  into  the  vestry  room  for 
the  clergyman's  use.  It  was  a  most  perfect  August 
afternoon,  and  through  the  open  vestry  came  the  fresh 
air  laden  with  perfume  of  meadow  and  forest,  and  the 
music  of  birds. 

Having  placed  the  book  on  the  little  table,  Nell  looked 
around  the  room  to  see  that  everything  was  arranged 
in  its  proper  place.  And  as  she  stood  there,  an  auto 
swung  up  and  stopped  just  outside  the  open  door. 
Glancing  quickly  around,  Nell  saw  a  man  in  khaki 
alight  from  the  car,  with  a  small  grip  in  his  hand,  and 
step  into  the  vestry.  He  paused  in  pleased  surprise 
when  he  saw  who  was  in  the  room,  and  at  once  held 
out  his  hand. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Strong,' '  he  be- 
gan.   "I  did  not  expect  to  find  you  here." 

"Mr.  Handyman!"  Nell  gasped,  as  she  allowed  her 
hand  to  remain  in  his  for  a  few  seconds.  "I  had  no 
idea  of  seeing  you  here  to-day.  Where  is  the  cler- 
gyman ? ' ' 

"Right  here,"  Douglas  smiled.  "Don't  you  under- 
stand?" 


296  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 


•  V 


Ton!*'  and  the  colour  suddenly  left  Nell's  cheeks 
It  seemed  as  if  she  had  not  heard  aright. 

* 'Yes,  I  am  to  take  the  service  to-day.    Will  you  for 
give  me?" 

Nell  stood  for  a  few  seconds  uncertain  what  to  do 
or  say.  Her  mind  was  in  a  tumult.  She  had  imagined 
many  things  as  to  Douglas'  identity,  but  never  once 
had  she  suspected  him  of  being  a  clergyman. 

"There  are  the  hymns,"  she  at  length  told  him, 
steadying  her  voice  as  much  as  possible.  "It  is  service 
time,  and  the  people  are  getting  impatient." 

Without  another  word  she  walked  out  of  the  vestry. 
She  tried  to  be  calm,  but  her  hands  trembled  as  she 
began  to  play,  and  it  appeared  to  her  that  all  must 
notice  her  agitation.  Never  had  the  church  seemed 
so  hot,  and  she  longed  to  be  away  by  herself  that  she 
might  think  over  the  startling  discovery. 

There  was  almost  a  sensation  in  the  church  that 
afternoon  when  Douglas  appeared  and  gave  out  the 
opening  hymn.  An  intense  silence  ensued,  broken  only 
by  the  sweet  organ  notes.  Very  few  in  the  congre- 
gation thought  of  singing,  as  they  were  too  busy  whis- 
pering to  one  another.  Jake  Jukes  stood  dumbfounded. 
He  could  not  believe  his  eyes,  and  paid  no  heed  to  his 
wife  who  kept  nudging  his  arm.  Empty's  mouth  was 
wide  open  and  his  eyes  were  fairly  starting  out  of  his 
head.  His  mother,  too,  was  greatly  affected,  and  her 
hand  trembled  so  much  that  she  could  hardly  hold 
her  hymn  book.  Even  Joe  Benton  forgot  to  follow 
the  words,  and  gazed  intently  upon  the  clergyman. 

But  the  greatest  feeling  of  consternation  was  in  the 
pew  where  the  Stubbles  sat.  They  were  all  there  ex- 
cept Ben,  and  the  sisters  were  dressed  in  their  finest. 


THE  CHALLENGE  297 

For  once  they  forgot  about  their  clothes,  and  stared  with 
undisguised  wonder  upon  the  white-robed  man  before 
them.  Simon  Stubbles  stood  like  a  statue.  It  had  taken 
him  only  an  instant  to  comprehend  the  whole  situation. 
He  knew  now  why  the  clergyman  had  come  to  Rixton 
disguised  as  a  farm-hand.  It  was  to  spy  out  the  land, 
and  to  ascertain  what  was  the  trouble  in  Church  mat- 
ters. Fear  and  anger  were  blended  as  he  watched 
Douglas '  every  movement,  and  a  deep  sigh  escaped  his 
lips  as  he  realised  his  helplessness. 

No  one  slept  during  the  sermon  that  day.  Nell  was 
the  only  one  who  did  not  hear  it  all.  She  knew  that 
Douglas  was  explaining  his  reasons  for  coming  to  Rix- 
ton in  disguise,  and  he  explained  them  well.  But  her 
mind  wandered,  and  she  thought  of  many  things  which 
had  happened  during  the  past  weeks  and  which  at  the 
time  had  puzzled  her.  But  now  she  saw  them  in  a  dif- 
ferent light.  Her  attention  was  arrested  as  Douglas 
began  to  tell  why  he  was  not  coming  to  the  parish  as 
rector.  The  war  had  made  the  change.  He  had  offered 
to  go  to  the  front  as  chaplain,  and  he  had  been  ac- 
cepted. His  friend,  Charles  Garton,  was  raising  a  bat- 
talion and  men  were  being  called  to  the  Colours.  ' '  How 
many  will  go  from  this  parish?"  he  asked  in  conclu- 
sion. "Many  of  you  are  of  Loyalist  descent,  so  I  be- 
lieve, and  you  cannot  easily  forget  what  your  ances- 
tors endured  in  their  devotion  to  the  flag  of  the  clus- 
tered crosses.  All  that  the  old  flag  stands  for  is  now 
at  stake,  and  every  one  must  do  his  part  to  keep  it 
floating  as  proudly  as  of  yore.  I  now  challenge  the 
young  men  of  this  parish  to  enlist  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  unite  with  the  battalion  which  is  being  formed  in 
the  city.    If  you  do,  I  shall  be  your  chaplain,  and  a 


298  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

great  pleasure  it  will  be  for  us  to  go  overseas  together 
to  support  the  brave  men  who  are  so  anxiously  await- 
ing the  Column  of  Relief.  Do  not  delay.  Make  up 
your  minds  at  once.  The  need  is  great.  Your  King 
and  country  are  calling  you." 

Never  had  Nell  heard  such  singing  in  that  old  church 
as  she  did  ir  the  closing  hymn  of  "Onward,  Christian 
Soldiers."  All  sang  it  with  a  new  spirit  and  a  power 
that  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  sermon  had  made  a 
deep  impression,  and  it  was  discussed  for  weeks  after- 
wards. 

When  the  service  was  over,  Douglas  was  at  once  sur- 
rounded by  an  enthusiastic  crowd,  for  every  one  wished 
to  shake  hands  with  him  and  give  him  a  word  of  wel- 
come. He  mentally  compared  this  reception  with  his 
first  arrival  in  the  parish.  It  was  really  a  victory,  and 
he  felt  that  should  he  remain  he  would  not  be  lacking 
in  loyal  supporters. 

But  there  was  one  person  Douglas  wished  to  see  most 
of  all,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  free  himself  from  the 
throng,  he  turned  around  toward  the  organ.  But  he 
looked  in  vain,  for  Nell  was  not  there,  neither  was  she 
anywhere  in  the  church. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

BY  THE  OLD  PINE  TREE 

WHILE  Douglas  was  talking  to  the  people,  Nell 
had  slipped  out  of  the  church  by  way  of  the 
vestry  room.  She  wanted  to  be  alone  that  she  might 
think.  Her  head  was  aching,  and  the  fresh  air  made 
her  feel  better.  She  went  straight  across  the  field  to- 
ward her  own  home,  following  the  path  she  had  so 
often  travelled.  This  led  her  to  the  old  pine  where 
she  and  Douglas  had  stood  on  that  beautiful  day  which 
now  seemed  so  long  ago. 

Here  she  stopped  and  looked  out  over  the  river. 
The  water  was  as  clear  as  glass,  and  she  could  see  her 
reflection  in  the  clear  depths.  Nell  believed  she  was 
safe  here  from  all  interruption,  for  those  who  had  been 
at  church  would  go  home  by  the  main  road.  Her  mind 
was  greatly  agitated,  and  after  a  while  she  sat  down 
by  the  side  of  the  tree  and  leaned  her  head  against 
the  trunk.  Her  face  bore  a  strained  look,  and  her  eyes 
were  dry.  She  felt  that  she  must  now  banish  Douglas 
from  her  mind  forever.  Why  had  he  deceived  her? 
she  asked  herself  over  and  over  again.  Why  had  he 
come  into  her  life,  bringing  such  joy  to  her  lonely 
heart,  and  then  dispelling  it  all  in  one  brief  hour  ?  If  he 
had  only  remained  the  same  ordinary  man  as  when 
working  for  Jake  Jukes,  how  happy  she  would  be.  She 
could  love  him  then  with  all  the  ardour  of  a  true,  pure 

299 


300  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

woman.  But  a  clergyman  in  disguise!  The  thought 
repelled  and  stung  her,  even  though  she  knew  why  he 
had  done  it.  Henceforth,  he  would  be  a  changed  man, 
so  she  believed,  hedged  about  by  the  dignity  and  con- 
ventions of  his  position,  and  no  longer  the  free  and  com- 
panionable John  Handyman  as  she  had  known  him. 

As  she  sat  thus  and  thought,  her  mind  gradually 
grew  calmer,  and  she  became  more  self-possessed.  She 
even  chided  herself  for  feeling  so  depressed.  What 
was  John  Handyman  to  her,  anyway?  Merely  an  ac- 
quaintance, whom  she  had  known  but  a  few  weeks.  She 
really  knew  nothing  about  his  past  life,  for  he  had  been 
most  guarded  in  speaking  about  himself.  Perhaps  he 
was  already  engaged  to  some  girl,  and  he  may  have 
been  with  her  during  his  absence  from  Rixton.  She 
had  no  guarantee  that  he  loved  her,  although  she  be- 
lieved that  he  liked  to  be  with  her.  She  recalled  how 
he  had  held  her  hand  in  his  and  had  looked  into  her 
eyes  in  a  way  that  had  thrilled  her  whole  being.  But 
no  matter  where  he  might  go  or  what  he  might  become, 
the  memory  would  be  ever  dear  to  her.  He  would  never 
know  of  her  love  for  him,  and  the  world  would  not  have 
the  slightest  suspicion  of  the  deep  things  of  her  heart. 
She  would  go  on  her  way  as  in  the  past,  and  none  would 
be  the  wiser. 

Nell  was  now  more  like  her  old  self,  and  as  people 
knew  her.  Her  self-reliant  and  reserved  nature  had  al- 
ways added  a  certain  dignity  to  her  personal  charms. 
It  would,  therefore,  have  been  a  great  surprise  to 
many  could  they  have  looked  into  her  heart  on  this 
beautiful  afternoon  and  discovered  the  secret.  They 
would  then  have  found  how  deep  are  the  real  wells  of 
life;  that  they  who  feel  most  keenly  say  the  least,  and 


BY  THE  OLD  PINE  TREE  301 

that  the  passionate  love  of  a  noble  woman  is  often  ex- 
pressed in  simple  outward  acts  of  gentleness,  mercy 
and  truth. 

For  about  half  an  hour  Nell  sat  there,  although  the 
passing  of  time  never  once  occurred  to  her.  She  might 
have  remained  thus  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon,  had 
she  not  been  suddenly  aroused  by  the  sound  of  ap- 
proaching footsteps.  Glancing  around,  great  was  her 
astonishment  and  embarrassment  to  see  the  very  one 
who  was  in  her  thoughts  hurrying  toward  her. 

As  Nell  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  heart  was  beating 
rapidly,  and  the  rich  blood  mantled  her  cheeks  and 
brow,  making  her  more  charming  than  ever,  so  Doug- 
las thought.  His  face  was  radiant,  and  his  eyes  glowed 
with  the  intensity  of  love.  His  impulsive  nature  could 
brook  no  further  delay,  neither  did  mere  formal  words 
of  affection  fall  from  his  lips.  Instead,  he  stepped 
quickly  forward,  caught  Nell  in  his  arms,  and  im- 
printed a  kiss  upon  her  trembling  lips. 

So  great  was  Nell's  surprise  at  this  sudden  and  au- 
dacious act,  that  she  was  rendered  almost  powerless. 
A  joy  surpassing  words  possessed  her,  and  she  longed 
to  remain  forever  in  her  lover's  strong  embrace.  But 
in  a  few  seconds,  a  feeling  of  maidenly  reserve  swept 
over  her,  and  she  tore  away  the  encircling  arms. 

"How  dare  you  do  such  a  thing?"  she  demanded. 
But  the  tone  of  her  voice  and  the  expression  in  her 
eyes  caused  Douglas  to  laugh  with  rapturous  joy. 

"You  must  get  up  more  fire  than  that  if  you  expect 
to  frighten  me,"  he  told  her. 

"But  how  could  you?  How  did  you  dare  without 
permission?"  Nell  faltered. 

"My   heart   gave   permission;   you   must   blame   it. 


302  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

And,  oh,  Nell,  tell  me  that  you  love  me,"  he  pleaded. 
"If  you  do,  then  you  will  forgive  everything.  Surely 
your  love  must  respond  to  mine." 

To  these  passionate  words  Nell  made  no  reply.  She 
was  too  greatly  overcome  to  utter  a  word  so  sudden 
and  overwhelming  had  been  the  change  during  the 
last  few  minutes.  Her  form  trembled  from  the  vehe- 
mence of  her  emotion,  and  then  the  tears,  which  for  so 
long  had  been  restrained,  came  to  her  relief,  and,  sink- 
ing upon  the  ground,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

1 '  Nell !  Nell ! ' '  Douglas  cried,  dropping  by  her  side, 
and  placing  his  arms  tenderly  around  her.  "What 
have  I  done?  Have  I  offended  you?  Oh,  tell  me;  tell 
me  quick.  I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  feel  badly.  For- 
give me;  please  forgive  me!" 

"I  am  only  foolish,  that  is  all,"  was  the  sobbing  re- 
ply, as  Nell  lifted  her  head  and  endeavoured  to  brush 
away  the  tears.  "I  didn't  mean  to  give  way  like  this. 
But  I  am  weak,  and  all  this  is  so  unexpected." 

"And  you  forgive  me?     You  are  not  offended?" 

In  reply,  Nell  threw  her  arms  impetuously  about  his 
neck,  and  laid  her  face  close  to  his. 

"There  is  my  answer,"  she  whispered.  "Are  you 
satisfied  now?" 

Never  had  the  old  pine  witnessed  such  a  scene  of 
perfect  bliss  as  that  which  then  took  place  at  its  foot. 
It  gave  no  sign,  however,  that  it  saw  anything,  but 
kept  its  secret  well.  It  was  in  league  with  the  happy 
lovers,  and  never  babbled  its  knowledge. 

"It  was  here  where  I  first  saw  you,  Nell,"  Douglas 
told  her,  as  they  nestled  close  to  each  other  upon  the 


BY  THE  OLD  PINE  TREE  303 

sand.  "How  well  I  remember  that  night,  and  how 
entranced  I  was  with  your  playing." 

" Don't  speak  of  that  time  any  more,"  Nell  pleaded. 
"It  seems  now  like  a  terrible  dream.  Oh,  how  that 
man  followed  me,  and  tried  to  get  me  in  his  power." 

"But  Ben  is  gone  now,  darling,  and  can  trouble 
you  no  more.  It  is  not  likely  that  he  will  ever  come 
back  to  this  place.  He  has  been  taught  a  severe  les- 
son, and  I  trust  it  will  do  him  good." 

"Oh,  I  hope  so,"  and  a  tremor  shook  Nell's  body. 
"I  want  to  forget  him  and  those  awful  days  that 
are  past." 

"And  you  must  forget,  Nell,  in  the  joy  of  the  pres- 
ent. Oh,  I  can  hardly  believe  it  is  true  that  you  love 
me.  I  was  almost  frightened  out  of  my  wits  lest  you 
should   refuse  me." 

"You  acted  like  it,  didn't  you?"  Nell  bantered,  turn- 
ing her  happy  face  to  his.  "Why,  you  swept  down 
upon  me  like  a  cyclone,  and  had  me  in  your  arms  be- 
fore I  could  utter  a  word  of  protest." 

"I  was  afraid,  darling;  that  was  the  reason.  You 
see,  I  knew  what  a  shock  I  gave  you  when  I  bounced 
into  the  vestry.  And  then  all  through  the  service  I 
was  watching  you,  and  noticed  how  agitated  you  were. 
I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  at  once  when  the  service 
was  over,  but,  no,  I  was  captured  by  the  whole  con- 
gregation and  when  at  last  I  was  able  to  look  around, 
you  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Suspecting  that  you 
might  be  here,  I  hurried  over  as  fast  as  I  could,  and 
when  I  beheld  you  standing  by  this  tree  looking  a  thou- 
sand times  more  lovely  than  ever,  I  lost  my  head  com- 
pletely, and,  oh,  you  know  the  rest.  It  was  all  your 
fault,  darling,  and  so  don 't  blame  me.    If  you  will  per- 


304  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

sist  in  being  so  charming,  you  must  put  up  with  the 
result." 

''But  was  that  really  the  whole  reason?"  Nell  asked. 
"Wasn't  there  something  else?  You  said  you  were 
afraid,  did  you  not?" 

"Now  you  are  cornering  me,"  Douglas  laughed. 
"Yes,  I  confess  I  was  afraid  of  the  questions  you  might 
ask  about  my  strange  behaviour  in  coming  to  Rixton  in 
disguise.  I  felt  that  you  were  offended,  and  so  great 
was  my  love,  I  was  in  no  mood  to  have  parts  of  the 
Catechism  hurled  at  me.  Just  imagine  my  standing 
before  you  like  a  child,  and  being  asked,  'What  is  your 
name?'  and  meekly  answering,  'Douglas  Stanton, 
ma'm.'  Then,  'Who  gave  you  this  name?'  and  I  would 
say  that  my  godfathers  and  godmothers  gave  it  to  me 
in  my  baptism.  And  you  would  ask  me,  'Why  are  you 
so  ashamed  of  your  name  that  you  take  another  ? '  Now, 
as  that  is  not  in  the  Catechism,  it  would  have  been  more 
difficult  for  me  to  answer,  and  so  I  would  have  blun- 
dered and  stumbled  and  made  such  a  fool  of  myself  that 
you  would  have  despised  me.  No,  I  could  not  endure 
that,  and  so  I  acted  with  audacious  boldness.  You  are 
not  sorry,  are  you?" 

' '  No,  I  am  glad  now,  although  it  was  a  terrible  shock 
to  me  at  first.  I  had  no  idea  that  you  loved  me  so  much. 
Isn't  it  wonderful!" 

"I  loved  you  ever  since  I  first  saw  you,  Nell,"  and 
Douglas  drew  her  closer  to  him.  "And  I  shall  love 
you  always.     Nothing  can  separate  us  now." 

"But  this  war  will,"  was  the  low  response.  "You 
are  going  away,  and  I  may  never  see  you  again.  How 
can  I  get  along  without  you?" 


BY  THE  OLD  PINE  TREE  305 

"Only  for  a  while,  darling.  I  shall  come  back  to 
you  some  day,  and  while  we  are  parted  from  each  other, 
our  love  will  support  us  and  keep  us  strong  and  brave. 
But  I  shall  not  be  leaving  for  several  weeks  yet,  so  dur- 
ing that  time  we  can  be  so  happy  together. " 

"I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  Nell  replied.  "But  I  am  so 
selfish,  and  now  that  I  am  sure  of  your  love  I  want  you 
with  me  always.  I  must  remember,  though,  what  so 
many  are  sacrificing  for  the  sake  of  their  King  and 
country,  and  I  must  be  brave,  too.  I  suppose  others  will 
be  going  from  this  parish.  I  do  not  see  how  the  young 
men  can  remain  behind,  especially  after  your  challenge 
to  them  to-day." 

1 '  I  believe  a  number  of  them  will  go  at  once.  Several 
spoke  to  me  after  service  and  expressed  their  intention 
of  enlisting." 

"I  am  so  glad  that  the  people  this  afternoon  were 
kind  to  you,  Douglas.  How  terrible  if  they  had  been 
angry  at  what  you  did.  It  would  make  it  very  hard  for 
me  when  you  are  away,  as  I  should  feel  so  badly  to 
listen  to  their  severe  criticisms." 

"You  need  not  worry  about  that  now,  Nell.  The 
people  are  very  friendly,  and  most  willing  to  do  all 
they  can  to  assist  the  new  clergyman  who  will  come 
here  in  my  stead.  I  do  not  know  his  name,  but  the 
Bishop  told  me  that  he  would  be  most  careful  in  his 
choice  of  a  man.  Even  Simon  Stubbles  shook  hands 
with  me  this  afternoon,  and  wished  me  good  luck.  Most 
likely  he  is  delighted  to  know  that  I  am  leaving  the 
place.  Anyway,  I  am  certain  that  he  will  behave  him- 
self after  this." 

low  I  wish  I  could  go,  too,"  Nell  remarked,  as  she 


306  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

played  with  her  left  hand  in  the  yielding  sand.  "But 
1  am  only  a  woman,  and  must  remain  behind. " 

"You  have  a  noble  work  to  do  here,  Nell.  Your 
father  needs  your  care,  and,  besides,  the  thought  of 
you  will  cheer  and  encourage  me.  And  I  shall  need 
your  prayers  as  well.  I  am  sure  they  will  help  me  no 
matter  where  I  am.  But,  there,  suppose  we  let  the 
future  take  care  of  itself.  We  have  each  other  now, 
and  we  need  not  worry  about  troubles  that  may  never 
come. ' ' 

"Perhaps  it  is  better,"  and  Nell  gave  a  little  sigh. 
"But  I  feel  selfish  in  being  so  very  happy.  I  am 
thinking  of  poor  Jean.  I  suppose  her  love  was  jus* 
as  deep  as  mine,  and  now  she  is  broken-hearted.  I  won- 
der what  will  become  of  her?  She  is  going  away,  so 
she  told  me  when  I  saw  her  in  the  church  on  Friday, 
but  she  did  not  say  what  she  is  going  to  do." 

"Why,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  Douglas  replied.  "The 
thought  of  you  banished  everything  else  from  my  mind. 
Jean  is  going  overseas  as  a  Red  Cross  nurse." 

"As  a  nurse!"  Nell  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  Major  Garton,  he  is  that  now,  you  see,  took  a 
great  interest  in  her,  and  when  he  found  that  she  had 
graduated  as  a  nurse  from  the  city  hospital,  he  was 
able  to  get  her  the  position  without  any  difficulty." 

"And  did  she  ask  to  be  allowed  to  go?" 

"Yes,  she  made  application,  and  begged  Garton  to 
do  what  he  could  for  her.  I  believe  she  is  quite  happy 
at  the  thought  of  going." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  and  Nell  clasped  her  hands 
before  her.  "She  will  have  something  to  live  for  now, 
and  I  know  that  she  will  do  a  noble  work." 


BY  THE  OLD  PINE  TREE  307 

"So  you  will  have  nothing  more  to  worry  about  now, 
will  you,  darling? "  and  Douglas  kissed  her  again. 
"Everything  has  come  out  all  right  at  last,  as  it  will 
in  the  future." 

"I  have  no  fears  nor  troubles  now  since  I  have  your 
love,"  and  Nell  lifted  her  shining  eyes  to  his. 

"Not  even  your  father  and  Nan  when  we  tell  them 
of  our  happiness,  eh?  Perhaps  they  may  make  things 
uncomfortable  for  us." 

"No,  I  am  not  afraid  of  them,"  Nell  laughingly  re- 
plied. "Father  is  very  fond  of  you,  and  Nan  will  be 
delighted  when  she  hears  of  it." 

"And  Empty  will  have  a  great  piece  of  news  to  tell, 
won't  he?  We  must  go  over  to-morrow  and  get  Mrs. 
Dempster's  blessing." 

"And  dear  old  Joe's,  too.  His  will  be  a  blessing 
worth  while." 

"What  about  Jake?  We  must  not  forget  him,  and 
his  'Great  punkins!'  Why,  he'll  need  a  whole  field  of 
them  to  express  his  astonishment. ' ' 

They  both  laughed  heartily  like  two  children  at  the 
thought  of  the  good-natured  farmer.  Then  Nell  rose 
to  her  feet. 

"My,  it  is  getting  late!"  she  exclaimed,  "and  what 
will  father  say?  We  must  go  home  at  once.  We  shall 
have  a  supper  to-night  that  will  be  worth  while." 

Along  the  sandy  beach  they  made  their  way.  The 
old  pine  seemed  to  stand  a  little  straighter,  as  if  proud 
of  what  it  had  just  witnessed.  The  birds  flitted  to  and 
fro,  and  their  chirpings  sounded  like  sweet  congratula- 
tions. Even  the  branches  of  the  trees  along  the  shore 
appeared  to  bend  a  little  lower  to  bestow  their  silent 


308  THE  UNKNOWN  WRESTLER 

benediction.  All  the  sweet  and  beautiful  things  of 
Nature  were  in  glad  attune  with  the  young  lovers  as 
they  turned  their  faces  toward  the  unknown  future 
lying  golden  and  mystic  in  the  lap  of  the  years. 


ZANE  GREY'S  NOVELS 

»■  ■  ■ ; 

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THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

A  New  York  society  girl  buys  a  ranch  which  becomes  the  center  of  frontier  war 
fare.  Her  loyal  superintendent  rescues  her  when  she  is  captured  by  bandits.  A 
surprising  climax  bringrs  the  story  to  a  delightful  close. 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

The  story  of  a  young  clergyman  who  becomes  a  wanderer  in  the  great  westers 
uplands— until  at  last  love  and  faith  awake. 

DESERT  GOLD 

The  story  describes  the  recent  uprising  along  the  border,  and  ends  with  the  finding 
Of  the  gold  which  two  prospectors  hadT willed  to  the  girl  vho  is  the  story's  heroine. 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

A  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago  when  Mormon  authority 
ruled.    The  prosecution  of  Jane  Withersteen  is  the  tliemetof  the  story. 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

This  is  the  record  of  a  trip  which  the  author  took  with  Buffalo  Jones,  known  as  the. 
preserver  of  the  American  bison,  across  the  Arizona  desert  and  of  a  hunt  in  "that 
wonderful  country  of  deep  canons  and  giant  pines." 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

A  lovely  girl,  who  has  been  reared  among  Mormons,  learns  to  love  a  young  New 
Englander.  The  Mormon  religion,  however,  demands  that  the  girl  shall  become 
the  second  wife  of  one  of  the  Mormons— Well,  that's  the  problem  of  this  great  story. 

THE  SHORT  STOP 

The  young  hero,  tiring  of  his  factory  grind,  starts  out  to  win  fame  and  fortune  as 
t>  professional  ball  player.  His  hard  knocks  at  the  start  are  followed  by  such  success 
as  clean  sportsmanship,  courage  and  honesty  ought  to  win. 

BETTY  ZANE 

This  story  tells  of  the  bravery  and  heroism  of  Betty,  the  beautiful  young  sister  ol 
•Id  Colonel  Zane,  one  of  the  bravest  pioneers. 

THE  LONE  STAR  RANGER 

After  killing  a  man  in  self  defense,  Buck  Duane  becomes  an  outlaw  along  the 
Texas  border.  In  a  camp  on  the  Mexican  side  of  the  river,  he  finds  a  young  girl  held 
prisoner,  and  in  attempting  to  rescue  her,  brings  down  upon  himself  the  wrath  of  her 
captors  and  henceforth  is  hunted  on  one  side  by  honest  men,  on  the  other  by  outlaws. 

-THE  BORDER  LEGION 

Joan  Handle,  in  a  spirit  of  anger,  sent  Jim  Cleve  out  to  a  lawless  Western  mining 
camp,  to  prove  his  mettle.  Then  realizing  that  she  loved  him— she  followed  him  out. 
On  her  way,  she  is  captured  by  a  bandit  band,  and  trouble  begins  when  she  shoots 
Kells,  the  leader— and  nurses  him  to  health  again.  Here  enters  another  romance- 
when  Joan,  disguised  as  an  outlaw,  observes  Jim,  in  the  throes  of  dissipation.  A  gold 
etrike,  a  thrilling  robbery— gambling  and  gun  play  carry  you  along  breathlessly. 

THE   LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS,  "" 

By  Helen  Cody  Wetmore  and  Zane  Grey 

The  life  story  of  Colonel  William  F.  Cody,  "  Buffalo  Bill."  as  told  by  his  sister  and 
Zane  Grey.  It  begin*  with  his  boyhood  in  Iowa  and  his  first  encounter  with  an  In- 
dian. We  see  "  Bill "  as  a  pony  express  rider,  then  near  Fort  Sumter  as  Chief  of 
the  Scouts,  and  later  engaged  in  the  most  dangerous  Indian  campaigns.  There  is 
also  a  very  interesting  account  of  the  travels  of  "The  Wild  West"  Show.  No  char- 
acter  In  public  life  makes  a  stronger  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  America  than 
"  Buffalo  Bill,"  whose  daring  and  bravery  made  him  famous. ^____^ 

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MOTHER.    Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  book  has  a  fairy-story  touch,  ^counterbalanced  by 
the  sturdy  reality  of  struggle,  sacrifice,  and  resulting  peace 
and  power  of  a  mother's  experiences. 

SATURDAY'S  CHILD. 

Frontispiece  by  F.  GrahanfCootes. 

Out  on  the  Pacific  coast  a  normal  girl,  obscure  and  lovely, 
makes^  a  quest  for  |  happiness.  She  passes  through  three 
stages — poverty,  wealth  and  service — and  works  out  a 
creditable  salvation. 

THE  RICH  MRS.  BURGOYNE. 

Illustrated  by  Lucius  H.  Hitchcock.  s 

The  story  gof  a  sensible  woman  who^keeps  within  her 
means,  refuses  to  be  swamped  by  social  engagements,  lives 
a  normal  human  life^of  varied  interests,  and  has  her  own 
romance. 

THE  STORY  OF  JTJLIATAGE. 

Frontispiece  by  Allan  Gilbert. 

How  Julia  [Page,  reared  in  rather  unpromising  surround* 
sngs,  lifted  herself  through  sheer  determination  to  a  higher 
plane  of  life. 

THE  HEART  OF  RACHAEL. 
Frontispiece  by  Charles  E.  Chambers. 

Rachael  is  called  upon  to  solve  many  problems,  and  in 
working  out  these,  there  is  shown  the  beauty  and  strength 
of  soul  of  one  of  fiction's  most  appealing  characters. 

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BOOTH     TARKINGTON'S 
NOVELS 

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SEVENTEEN.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  William  Brown. 

No  one  but  the  creator  of  Penrod  could  have  portrayed 
the  immortal  young  people  of  this  story.  Its  humor  is  irre- 
sistible and  reminiscent  of  the  time  when  the  reader  was 
Seventeen. 

PENROD.    Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant. 

This  is  a  picture  of  a  boy's  heart,  full  of  the  lovable,  hu- 
morous, tragic  things  which  are  locked  secrets  to  most  older 
folks.    It  is  a  finished,  exquisite  work. 

PENROD  AND  SAM.  Illustrated  by  Worth  Brehm. 

Like  "  Penrod "  and  "  Seventeen,"  this  book  contains 
some  remarkable  phases  of  real  boyhood  and  some  of  the  best 
stories  of  juvenile  prankishness  that  have  ever  been  written. 

THE  TURMOIL.    Illustrated  by  C.  E.  Chambers. 

Bibbs  Sheridan  is  a  dreamy,  imaginative  youth,  who  re- 
volts against  his  father's  plans  for  him  to  be  a  servitor  of 
big  business.  The  love  of  a  fine  girl  turns  Bibb's  life  from 
failure  to  success. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  INDIANA.    Frontispiece. 

A  story  of  love  and  politics, — more  especially  a  picture  of 
a  country  editor's  life  in  Indiana,  but  the  charm  of  the  book 
lies  in  the  love  interest. 

THE  FLIRT.    IUustrated  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 

The  "  Flirt,"  the  younger  of  two  sisters,  breaks  one  girl's 
engagement,  drives  one  man  to  suicide,  causes  the  murder 
of  another,  leads  another  to  lose  his  fortune,  and  in  the  end 
marries  a  stupid  and  unpromising  suitor,  leaving  the  really 
worthy  one  to  marry  her  sister. 

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JACK    LONDON'S    NOVELS 

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JOHN  BARLEYCORN.    Illustrated  by  H.  T.  Dunn. 

This  remarkable  book  is  a  record  of  the  author's  own  amazing 
experiences.  This  big,  brawny  world  rover,  who  has  been  ac- 
quainted with  alcohol  from  boyhood,  comes  out  boldly  against  John 
Barleycorn.  It  is  a  string  of  exciting  adventures,  yet  it  forcefully 
conveys  an  unforgetable  idea  and  makes  a  typical  Jack  London  book. 
rHE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON.   Frontispiece  by  George  Harper.  I 

The  story  opens  in  the  city  slums  where  Billy  Roberts,  teamster 
and  ex-prize  fighter,  and  Saxon  Brown,  laundry  worker,  meet  and 
love  and  marry.  They  tramp  from  one  end  of  California  to  the 
other,  and  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon  find  the  farm  paradise  that  is 
to  be  their  salvation. 
BURNING  DAYLIGHT.    Four  illustrations. 

The  story  of  an  adventurer  who  went  to  Alaska  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  his  fortune  before  the  gold  hunters  arrived.  Bringing 
his  fortunes  to  the  States  he  is  cheated  out  of  it  by  a  crowd  of  money 
kings,  and  recovers  it  only  at  the  muzzle  of  his  gun.  He  then  starts 
out  asja  merciless  exploiter  on  his  own  account.  Finally  he  takes  to 
drinking  and  becomes  a  picture  of  degeneration.  About  this  time 
he  falls  in  love  with  his  stenographer  and  wins  her  heart  but  not 
her  hand  and  then — but  read  the  story! 
A  SON  OF  THE  SUN.  Illustrated  by  A.  O.Fischer  and  C.W.  Ashley. 

David  Grief  was  once  a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  youth  who  came 
from  England  to  the  South  Seas  in  seai-ch  of  adventure .  Tanned 
like  a  native  and  as  lithe  as  a  tiger,  he  became  a  real  son  of  the  sun. 
The  hfe  appealed  to  him  and  he  remained  and  became  very  wealthy. 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin  and 
Charles  Livingston  Bull.    Decorations  by  Charles  E.  Hooper. 

A  book  of  dog  adventures  as   exciting  as  any  man's  exploits 
could  be.     Here  is  excitement  to  stir  the  blood  and  here  is  pictur- 
esque color  to  transport  the  reader  to  primitive  scenes.> 
THE  SEA  WOLF.    Illustrated  by  W.  J.  Aylward. 

Told  by  a  man  whom  Fate  suddenly  swings  from  his  fastidious 
iife  into  the  power  of  the  brutal  captain  of  a  sealing  schooner.    A 
novel  of  adventure  warmed  by  a  beautiful  love  episode  that  every 
>*eader  wil  hail  with  delight. 
ffTHITE  FANG.    Illustrated  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

<:\Vhite  Fang"  is  part  dog,  part  wolf  and  all  brute,  living  in  the 
frozen  north ;  he  gradually  comes  under  the  spell  of  man's  com- 
panionship, and  surrenders  all  at  the  last  in  a  fight  with  a  bull  dog. 
Thereafter  he  is  man's  loving  slave. 

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THE  NOVELS  OF 
GRACE    LIVINGSTON    HILL     LUTZ 

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THE  BEST  MAN 

Through  a  strange  series  of  adventures  a  young  man  finds 
himself  propelled  up  the  aisle  of  a  church  and  married  to  a 
strange  girl. 

A  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

On  her  way  West  the  heroine  steps  off  by  mistake  at  a  lonely 
watertank  into  a  maze  of  thrilling  events. 

THE  ENCHANTED  BARN 

Every  member  of  the  family  will  enjoy  this  spirited  chronicle 
of  a  young  girl's  resourcefulness  and  pluck,  and  the  secret  of 
the  ' '  enchanted ' '  barn. 

THE  WITNESS 

The  fascinating  story  of  the  enormous  change  an  incident 
wrought  in  a  man's  life. 

MARCIA  SCHUYLER 

A  picture  of  ideal  girlhood  set  in  the  time  of  full  skirts  and 
poke  bonnets. 

LP,  MICHAEL! 

A  story  of  unfailing  appeal  to  all  who  love  and  understand  boys. 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

An  intensely  moving  love  story  of  a  man  of  the  desert  and  a 
girl  of  the  East  pictured  against  the  background  of  the  Far  West  I 

PHOEBE  DEANE 

A  tense  and  charming  love  story,  told  with  a  grace  and  a  fer- 
vor with  which  only  Mrs.  Lutz  could  tell  it. 

DAWN  OF  THE  MORNING 

A  romance  of  the  last  century  with  all  of  its  old-fashioned 
charm.  A  companion  volume  to  "  Marcia  Schuyler"  and 
"Phoebe  Deane." 

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"STORM  COUNTRY"  BOOKS  BY 

GRACE  MILLER  WHITE 

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JUDY  OF  ROGUES'  HARBOR 

Judy's  untutored  ideas  of  God,  her  love  of  wild  things, 
her  faith  in  life  are  quite  as  inspiring  as  those  of  Tess. 
Her  faith  and  sincerity  catch  at  your  heart  strings.  This 
book  has  all  of  the  mystery  and  tense  action  of  the  other 
Storm  Country  books. 

TESS  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY 

It  was  as  Tess,  beautiful,  wild,  impetuous,  that  Mary 
Pickford  made  her  reputation  as  a  motion  picture  actress. 
How  love  acts  upon  a  temperament  such  as  hers — a  tem- 
perament that  makes  a  woman  an  angel  or  an  outcast,  ac- 
cording to  the  character  of  the  man  she  loves — is  the 
theme  of  the  story. 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY 

The  sequel  to  "  Tess  of  the  Storm  Country,"  with  the 
same  wild  background,  with  its  half-gypsy  life  of  the  squat- 
ters— tempestuous,  passionate,  brooding.  Tess  learns  the 
"  secret "  of  her  birth  and  finds  happiness  and  love  through 
her  boundless  faith  in  life. 

FROM  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MISSING 

A  haunting  story  with  its  scene  laid  near  the  country 
familiar  to  readers  of  "  Tess  of  the  Storm  Country." 

ROSE  O'  PARADISE 

"  Jinny  "  Singleton,  wild,  lovely,  lonely,  but  with  a  pas- 
sionate yearning  for  music,  grows  up  in  the  house  of  Lafe 
Grandoken,  a  crippled  cobbler  of  the  Storm  Country.  Her 
romance  is  full  of  power  and  glory  and  tenderness. 

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CHIP  OF  THE  FLYING  U.     Wherein  the  1  ove  affairs  of  Chip  and 

Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told. 
THE  HAPPY  FAMILY.     A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with 

the  adventures  of  eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys^ 
flER  PRAIRIE  KNiGHT.     Describing  a  gay  party  of  Easterner^ 

who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  a  Montana  ranch-house,' 
THE  RANGE  DWELLERS.     Spirited  action,  a  range  feud  be- 

two  famiiiea,  and  a  Romeo  and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright, 

jolly  story. 
THE  LURE  OF  THE  DIM  TRAILS.     A  vivid  portrayal  of  the 

experience  of  an  Eastern  author  among  the  cowboys. 
THE  LONESOME  TRAIL.     A  little  branch  of  sage  brush  and  the 

recollection  of  a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  upset  "Weary"  David- 
son's plans. 
THE  LONG  SHADOW.     A  vigorous  Western  story,  sparkling  with 

the  free  outdoor  life  of  a  mountain  ranch.     It  is  a  fine  love  story. 
GOOD  INDIAN.     A  stirring  romance  of  life  on  an  Idaho  ranch. 
FLYING  U  RANCH.     Another  delightful  story  about  Chip  and 

his  pals. 
THE  FLYING  U'S  LAST  STAND.     An  amusing  account  of  Chip 

and  the  other  boys  opposing  a  party  of  school  teachers. 
THE  UPHILL  CLIMB.     A   story  of  a  mountain  ranch  and  of  a 

man's  hard  fight  on  the  uphill  road  to  manliness. 
THE  PHANTOM  HERD.     The  title  of  a  moving-picture  staged  hi 

New  Mexico  by  the  "Flying  U  "  boys. 
THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  SIOUX.     The  "  Flying  U  "  boys  stage 

a  fake  bank  robbery  for  film  purposes  which  precedes  a  real  one 

for  lust  of  gold. 
THE  GRINGOS.     A  story  of  love  and  adventure  on  a  ranch  in 

California. 
STARR  OF  THE  DESERT.     A  New  Mexico  ranch  story  of  mys- 
tery and  adventure. 
THE  LOOKOUT  MAN.     A  Northern  California  story  full  of  action, 

excitement  and  love. 

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WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE,    By  Jean  Webster. 
Illustrated  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been 

written.    It  is  bright,  whimsical  and  entertaining,  lifelike,  laughable 
and  thoroughly  human. 

ijUST    PATTY,    By  Jean  Webster. 
Illustrated  by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

Patty  is  full  of  the  joy  of  living,  fun-loving,  given  to  ingenious 
mischief  for  its  own  sake,  with  a  disregard  for  pretty  convention  which 
Is  an  unfailing  source  of  joy  to  her  fellows. 

THE  POOR  LITTLE  RICH  GIRL,    By  Eleanor  Gates. 
With  four  full  page  illustrations. 

This  story  relates  the  experience  of  one  of  those  unfortunate  chil- 
dren whose  early  days  are  passed  in  the  companionship  of  a  governess, 
seldom  seeing  either  parent,  and  famishing  for  natural  love  and  tender- 
ness.   A  charming  play  as  dramatized  by  the  author. 

REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK    FARM,       By  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  studies  of  childhood — Rebecca's  artistic, 
unusual  and  quaintly  charming  qualities  stand  out  midst  a  circle  of 
austere  New  Englanders.  The  stage  version  is  making  a  phenominal 
dramatic  record. 

NEW  CHRONICLES  OF  REBECCA,   By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

Additional  episodes  in  the  girlhood  of  this  delightful  heroine  that 
carry  Rebecca  through  various  stages  to  her  eighteenth  birthday. 

REBECCA  MARY,    By  Annie  Hamilton  Donnelh 
Illustrated  by  Elizabeth  Shippen  Green. 

This  author  possesses  the  rare  gift  of  portraying  all  the  grotesque 
little  joys  and  sorrows  and  scruples  of  this  very  small  girl  with  a  pa* 
thos  that  is  peculiarly  genuine  and  appealing. 

EMMY  LOU:    Her  Book  and  Heart,    By  George  Madden  Martin, 
Illustrated  by  Charles  Louis  Hinton. 

Emmy  Lou  is  irresistibly  lovable,  because  she  is  so  absolutely  real. 
She  is  just  a  bewitchingly  innocent,  hugable  little  maid.  The  book  is 
wonderfully  human. 

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THE  NOVELS  OF 

GEORGE  BARR  McCUTCHEON 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grossst  and  Dunlap's  list. 

GRAUSTARK.      Illustrated  with  Scenes  from  the  Play. 

With  the  appearance  of  this  novel,  the  author  introduced  a  new 
type  of  story  and  won  for  himself  a  perpetual  reading  public.  It 
is  the  story  of  love  behind  a  throne  in  a  new  and  strange  country. 

BEVERLY  OF  GRAUSTARK,      Illustrations  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

This  is  a  sequel  to  "  Graustark."  A  bewitching  American  girl 
visits  the  little  principality  and  there  has  a  romantic  love  affair. 

PRINCE  OF  GRAUSTARK.      Illustrations  by  A.  I.  Keller. 

The  Prince  of  Graustark  is  none  other  than  the  son  of  the  hero- 
ine of  "Graustark."  Beverly's  daughter,  and  an  American  multi- 
millionaire with  a  brilliant  and  lovely  daughter  also  figure  in  thtr 
story. 

BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS. 

Illustrated  with  Scenes  from  the  Photo-Play. 

A  youmg  man,  required  to  spend  one  million  dollars  in  one  year, 
in  order  to  inherit  seven,  accomplishes  the  task  in  this  lively  story. 

COWARDICE  COURT. 

Illus.  by  Harrison  Fisher  and  decorations  by  Theodore  Hapgood. 

A  romance  of  love  and  adventure,  the  plot  forming  around  a 
social  feud  in  the  Adirondacks  in  which  an  English  girl  is  tempted 
into  being  a  traitor  by  a  romantic  young  American. 

THE  HOLLOW  OF  HER  HAND.      Illustrated  by  A.  I.  Keller. 

A  story  of  modern  New  York,  built  around  an  ancient  enmity, 
born  of  the  scorn  of  the  aristocrat  for  one  of  inferior  birth. 

WHAT'S-HIS-NAME.      Illustrations  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

"  Whafs-His-Name "  is  the  husband  of  a  beautiful  and  popula? 
actress  who  is  billboarded  on  Broadway  under  an  assumed  name. 
The  very  opposite  manner  in  which  these  two  live  their  lives  brings 
a  dramatic  climax  to  the  story. 

A»k  for  Complete  free  Hit  •/  G.   &  D.   Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 


Grosset  &  Dunlap,  Publishers,  New  York 


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FOXU*. 

JOHN  FOX,  JR'S. 

STORIES   OF  THE   KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

May  be  had  wharever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grcsset  and  Doalap's  list 

THE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME  PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  "lonesome  pine"  from  which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
foot-prints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King- 
dom Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

"  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT  OF  THE    CUMBERLAND./ 

Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland* 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  feudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon- 
shiner's son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris* 
tened  "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "  Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

Ask  for  complete  fre*  list  »f  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 


Grosset  &  Dunlap,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

WINSTON  CHURCHILL 

THE  INSIDE  OF  THE  CUP.    Illustrated  by  Howard  Giles. 

The  Reverend  John  Hodder  is  called  to  a  fashionable  church  in 
a  middle-western  city.  He  knows  little  of  modern  problems  and  in 
his  theology  is  as  orthodox  as  the  rich  men  who  control  his  churcfa 
could  desire.  But  the  facts  of  modern  life  are  thrust  upon  him;  ar 
awakening  follows  and  in  the  end  he  works  out  a  solution. 
A  FAR  COUNTRY.    Illustrated  by  Herman  Pfeifer. 

This  novel  is  concerned  with  big  problems  of  the  day.    As  The 
Inside  of  the  Cup  gets  down  to  the  essentials  in  its  discussion  of  re- 
ligion, so  A  Far  Country  deals  in  a  story  that  is  intense  and  dra- 
matic, with  other  vital  issues  confronting  the  twentieth  century. 
A  MODERN  CHRONICLE.    Illustrated  by  J.  H.  Gardner  Soper. 

This,  Mr.   Churchill's  first  great  presentation  of  the  Eternal 
Feminine,  is  throughout  a  profound  study  of  a  fascinating  young 
American  woman.    It  is  frankly  a  modern  love  story. 
MR.  CREWE'S  CAREER.     Illus.  by  A.  I.  Keller  and  Kinneys. 

A  new  England  state  is  under  the  political  domination  of  a  rail- 
way and  Mr.  Crewe,  a  millionaire,  seizes  a  moment  when  the  cause 
of  the  people  is  being  espoused  by  an  ardent  young  attorney,  to  fur- 
ther his  own  interest  in  a  political  way.  The  daughter  of  the  rail- 
way president  plays  no  small  part  in  the  situation. 
THE  CROSSING.    Illustrated  by  S.  Adamson  and  L.  Baylis. 

Describing  the  battle  of  Fort  Moultrie,  the  blazing  of  the  Ken- 
tucky wilderness,  the  expedition  of  Clark  and  his  handful  of  follow- 
ers in  Illinois,  the  beginning  of   civilization  along  the  Ohio  and 
Mississippi,  and  the  treasonable  schemes  against  Washington. 
CONISTON.    Illustrated  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

A  deft  blending  of  love  and  politics.    A  New  Englander  is  the 
hero,  a  crude  man  who  rose  to  political  prominence  by  his  own  pow- 
ers, and  then  surrendered  all  for  the  love  of  a  woman. 
THE  CELEBRITY.    An  episode. 

An  inimitable  bit  of  comedy  describing  an  interchange  of  per- 
sonalities bet  ween  a  celebrated  author  and  a  bicycle  salesman.    It 
is  the  purest,  keenest  fun— and  is  American  to  the  core. 
THE  CRISIS.    Illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  Photo-Play. 

A  book  that  presents  the  great  crisis  in  our  national  life  with 
splendid  power  and  with  a  sympathy,  a  sincerity,  and  a  patriotism 
that  are  inspiring. 
RICHARD  CARVEL.    Illustrated  by  Malcolm  Frazer. 

An  historical  novel  which  gives  a  real  and  vivid  picture  of  Co- 
lonial times,  and  is  good,  clean,  spirited  reading  in  all  its  phase*  and 
interesting  throughout. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,      Publishers,     New  York 


NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE  BY 

WILLIAM   MacLEOD   RAINS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.       Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list. 

MAVERICKS 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "  rustler  "  abounds.    One  of  the  sweetest 
love  stories  ever  told. 

,  A  TEXAS  RANGER 

How  a  member  of  the  border  police  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man,  followed  s. 
fugitive  to  Wyoming:,  and  then  passed  throug-h  deadly  peril  to  ultimate  happiness. 

i  WYOMING 

In  this  vivid  story  the  author  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  all  iti 
engaging  dash  and  vigor. 

RIDGWAY  OF  MONTANA 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  of  Montana,  where  politics  and  mining  in- 
dustries are  the  religion  of  the  country. 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR 

Every  chapter  teems  with  wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  replete  with  the  dashing 
spirit  of  the  border. 
CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT 

A  story  of  Arizona ;  of  swift-riding  men  and  daring  outlaws ;  of  a  bitter  feud  be- 
tween cattle-men  and  sheep-herders. 

BRAND  BLOTTERS 

A  story  of  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  a  charming  love  interest  running 
through  its  pagea. 
STEVE  YEAGER 

A  story  brimful  of  excitement,  with  enough  gun-play  and  adventure  to  suit  anyone. 
A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  DONS 

A  Western  story  of  romance  and  adventure,  comprising  a  vivacious  and  stirring 
tale. 
THE  HIGH  GRADER 

A  breezy,  pleasant  and  amusing  love  story  of  Western  mining  life. 
THE  PIRATE  OF  PANAMA 

A  tale  of  old-time  pirates  and  of  modern  love,  hate  and  adventure. 
THE  YUKON  TRAIL 

A  crisply  entertaining  love  story  in  the  land  where  might  makes  right. 
THE  VISION  SPLENDID 

In  which  two  cousins  are  contestants  for  the  same  prizes ;  political  honors  and  the 
band  of  a  girl. 
THE   SHERIFF'S  SON 

The  hero  finally  conquers  both  himself  and  his  enemies  and  wins  the  love  of  a 
•wonderful  girl.  

Grosset  &  Dunlap,  Publishers,  New  York 

1 


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AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.00  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


14  1937 

CCT    121937 

APR     29 1944 

LD  21-95m  7/37 

YB  32402 


912837 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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